Enorace Oneshots
by InkyQuill553
Summary: A collection of Enorace oneshots, because why not? Open to suggestions for future chapters :)
1. Homunculi

**Hi! Here is the long-awaited second Enorace fanfiction! **

**...Well, kind of. After months of writer's block, being disgusted at everything I wrote and some final exams, I've decided something is better than nothing. **

**This fic is just a collection of all the writing scraps I couldn't work out how to turn into a proper fanfiction. (Yikes)**

**But even so, I hope you like these oneshots, and please review!**

_Chapter 1: Homunculi _

_Synopsis: Enoch teaches Horace the ways of the homunculus_

_Set: Pre-Jacob, in Miss Peregrine's loop_

_Genre/s: Fluff_

* * *

It was a typical bright, sunny loop day and the peculiars ran out into the sunshine, finally released from a three hour lesson on Peculiar law. Enoch trudged along with his hands in his pockets, headed for his tree stump in the shade to sit alone as usual, muttering to himself about the varying annoyances of the other peculiars.

Bronwyn had made the lesson ten times longer by asking stupid and pointless questions, Hugh and Fiona spent the whole time flirting and giggling behind him, and Millard was such stuck-up ninny acting like he knew even more than Miss Peregrine. Glaring at his fellow peculiars, who lay in the grass or played games in the sun, Enoch decided that he hated all of them.

Well, not _all _of them...

"Morning!" Horace appeared next to him, beaming.

"It's one o'clock." Enoch grumbled, but he found he couldnt help smiling too. It was an embarrassing habit he'd developed sometime in the months after he and Horace got together, and no amount of trying could seem to break it. Something about being around Horace managed to make his annoyance at the world disappear. Horace actually made him feel _happy, _which of course was completely ridiculous and stupid and-

Horace's arm brushed his as they walked, close enough that Enoch could smell his new cologne. Enoch thought he might actually die right then and there.

"W-what are you following me for?" He choked out, attempting to scowl at Horace, but succeeding only in looking completely ridiculous. Horace snorted.

"I'm not _following_ you, genius. I just wanted to give you some company is all. You always look so lonely over there by yourself."

Enoch looked at him in disbelief.

"_I_ look lonely? Have you seen yourself, Somnusson? You sit on the porch all day alone just staring into space. At least I have my homunculi."

"Well we can be lonely together then." Horace grinned, flopping down in the shade. "Show me how you make them." He said, nodding to the homunculous peeking out from Enoch's pocket.

"It's really nothing special…" Enoch warned, ignoring the tree stump and instead sitting down in the grass opposite Horace so that they could be at the same level. "You just roll the clay around to warm it up, then make a ball…" He showed Horace how he pinched the clay into arms and legs and a head, then jammed his fingers into its chest to make a space for the heart.

"And then I just bring it to life." Enoch shrugged as he pulled out a tiny mouse heart from the pocket of his overalls. Horace wrinkled his nose but stayed watching as Enoch placed it inside the homunculus, sealed over the hole then pressed two fingers to its chest like he was taking a pulse. He concentrated, imagining life travelling through his veins and into the clay, willed the heart to beat-

The little clay man in his hands suddenly leaped to life, and Horace laughed with delight. The homunculus stumbled and staggered around on new legs, falling over several times in the grass. Horace held out his hands to scoop it up as Enoch began to make another. Horace held it up, turning it over with awe as it wriggled and squirmed.

"Your peculiarity really is amazing, Enoch." Honest told him sincerely. "I always thought of these men you make as nasty things, but they're actually quite sweet."

Enoch fought back a smile as Horace released the homunculus back into the grass, but it didn't seem to want to leave him.

"Yeah, well… um…" Enoch stammered. He had no idea what to say to that, so he chucked another finished homunculus into the grass at Horace's knees. "Here." He muttered.

This one staggered around too, but more randomly, sometimes to Horace, often back to Enoch, trying to climb up his legs.

"Bugger off, you." He poked it in the chest until it fell backwards.

Soon Enoch had made seven homunculi, all staggering around and bumping into each other, but the original one stuck by Horace, leaning casually against his leg like it had claimed him as its favourite. Horace smiled happily at it, letting the other, lost ones clamber up his legs and hang off his arms.

"Look at them." He laughed, pulling one out of his hair. "They're ridiculous!"

While Horace was distracted, Enoch made a little clay top hat and tie and attached them to the homunculus leaning against the boy's leg. Enoch blushed furiously as he thrust the man into Horace's hands. Horace beamed as the homunculus sat in his palm.

"Oh Enoch, that's so sweet! It looks just like me." He looked up at Enoch and smiled, eyes shining with affection, and Enoch forgot how to breathe. He scowled, trying hard to ignore how much he wanted to kiss Horace's stupid face right now.

The homunculus in Horace's hand suddenly wrapped its tiny arms around his fingers in a hug. Horace looked at it, then at Enoch, with a confused smile on his face.

"Umm…"

The other homunculi began hugging him too, wrapping their arms around his wrists or knees as best they could. Even the barely finished homunculus in Enoch's hands wriggled out of his grip to wobble over and hug Horace's shoe. Horace bit back a smirk, looking at Enoch and raising an eyebrow. Enoch felt himself flush dark red and in his head he commanded the homunculi to let Horace go. They didn't budge.

"Off!" He snapped at them out loud. "You're all terrible soldiers! Get off him right now!" The homunculi turned their heads towards him nonchalantly, refusing to move. Horace sniggered and Enoch felt his face grow hotter. He snatched the homunculus out of Horace's hand and snapped off its arms.

"Hey!" Horace cried, laughing at him. "I liked that one!"

"No time for love on the battlefield. That's what happens to soldiers who get distracted." Enoch glared down at the writhing homunculus.

"Well that's not a very good motto." Horace said, reaching up to brush clay dust off Enoch's chin. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then kissed him gently. "You really should change it."

Enoch gaped at him, his face no doubt a tomato at this point.

"I-I'll consider it." Enoch stammered, staring intently down at the grass.

Horace just laughed and kissed him again.

**Thanks for reading! Please feel free to give feedback or suggestions for future chapters in the reviews!**


	2. Clothes

**I'm back! Sorry this chapter took so long (writer's block will be the death of me I swear).**

**Thank you for the reviews and suggestions! I'll get right to writing :)**

**Also, I'm trying out a new set up for the chapters so its easier to see which ones you want to read. **

**Hope you enjoy, and please review!**

_Chapter 2: Clothes_

_Synopsis: Horace tries to help Enoch choose some new modern clothes._

_Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida_

_Genre/s: Angst/Fluff_

* * *

"Oh this is so exciting!" Horace gushed, dragging a reluctant Enoch through the racks of clothes.

"It's just a modern day outfit." Enoch huffed, ramming his hands into his pockets. "And I've already got one anyway!"

"Oh please." Horace glanced disdainfully at his _Normal People Scare Me _shirt and skull pants. "You've certainly managed to encapsulate everything that's disgraceful about modern fashion, I'll grant you that. But just because everyone else is parading themselves around in hideous attire doesn't mean you can too."

Enoch groaned.

"Remind me why I agreed to come here with you again?"

Horace laughed and squeezed his hand.

"Okay okay, I'll leave you be. But Jacob chose me as quality control for a reason, so don't expect to leave in anything less than the very best modern clothes I can find in this place."

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

"You can't spend your life in those dreadful things." Horace shook his head. "What a person wears says a lot about them."

"How about we find some clothes that say _I don't care about this and I'm only here because Portman said so?_"

"Lets aim for_ I don't care about this but I still look cute."_

"Cute?" Enoch wrinkled his nose. "I don't do cute. Sorry to disappoint."

Horace rolled his eyes.

"Come on."

…

They'd been in the shops for over forty five minutes, and still couldn't decide on anything.

"What about these?" Horace passed Enoch a pair of tan dress pants. Enoch wrinkled his nose.

"I'd rather be shot in the face."

"Alright… a no to the pants. Pass them here." Horace put them back and they left the store to walk further into the mall.

"Hey, can we go in there?" Enoch's face lit up as they passed Hot Topic. Horace looked visibly disgusted.

"Have you _seen_ what they're selling? Absolutely not. Come on."

Enoch moped behind Horace as he rushed happily from shop to shop, dragging Enoch to whatever clothes that he deemed acceptable, only to be disappointed by Enoch's adamant disinterest.

"I thought clothes shopping was meant to be fun." Enoch muttered bitterly. "Those girls in the teen movies Jacob made us watch went crazy for it, but this _sucks_."

Horace laughed.

"Oh clothes shopping is torture. You start out with good intentions, then midway through you realise every item of clothing you liked looks terrible on you and your body is wrong in countless ways you never noticed before. By the end your feet and back ache from standing, your tailor has given up on trying to help you, and any ounce of self esteem you may have had in the beginning has been beaten into oblivion. It's all a marketing strategy to promote insecurity and make you spend money on clothes you don't nee- ooh Enoch look! This shirt is just your colour!"

He ran off to the next store and Enoch sighed.

"Perfect!" Horace held up a navy button up shirt. "It's not too formal, which is what you said you wanted. And the blue brings out your eyes."

Horace pushed the shirt into Enoch's arms and turned back to the racks, sifting through for other colours.

"Otherwise there's grey. What do you think?" Horace held it up against Enoch's chest, frowning. Enoch opened his mouth to answer, but Horace shook his head before he could reply. "Hmm… no, the navy looks better."

Horace put the grey back on the rack, sighing. "I don't know why you wouldn't let me take you to a proper tailor. We could get you a real suit!"

"Maybe because the idea of getting these clothes is to _blend in_?" Enoch raised an eyebrow at Horace's outfit. "Most modern teenagers don't go around wearing a suit and tie."

"My clothes are modern!" Horace insisted. "I bought them in the twenty first century didn't I?"

"They look the same as your old clothes." Enoch frowned.

"Don't make this about me! This about you, and buying clothes you want to wear."

Enoch raised an eyebrow.

"Oh is that what this is? Could've fooled me." He shrugged. "In that case, I don't want to wear that shirt. Or those." He pointed to the dress pants Horace had just pulled off a rack.

"If you say so." Horace scoffed, laughing as though Enoch had just made a joke. He took the shirt from Enoch's hands and put it in a basket with the pants.

"Aren't you going to put those back?" Enoch asked, jogging to keep up with him as Horace walked along the racks, muttering to himself and holding up clothes Enoch wouldn't be caught dead in. "Hey! I thought this was about me!"

"It is." Horace looked bewildered. "I'm just finding things I know will look good on you in case your choices… look… bad." He winced at his choice of words, then added quickly, "But you can still go ahead and choose things." He insisted.

Enoch glared at him and wandered off to a more casual part of the store. He grinned as he grabbed a handful of oversized graphic t-shirts. That was better.

"There you are!" Horace beamed, walking over to him a few minutes later. "I've got all sorts of things for you to try on. What have you found?"

"What about these?" Enoch said, holding out a pair of baggy black jeans.

Horace appeared to go through the five stages of grief in three seconds flat. He held a hand over his heart with a horrified expression.

"Oh no no no, absolutely not!" He gasped. "Enoch, I've learnt to tolerate denim on the grounds that it makes up a large part of modern fashion. But _black_ denim? Denim without a even a _hint_ of shape or tailoring? I'm sorry, but I absolutely-"

Enoch scowled.

"Well I like them." He snapped. "And I'm gonna try them on."

"Oh… okay." Horace frowned. "Alright, well try these on then as well." He passed Enoch the basket.

…

Enoch stepped out of the changing stall, grinning in the jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt.

"I'm getting these."

Horace bit his lip.

"But… well aren't they a little big? Are you sure you don't want a smaller size? You're absolutely drowning in fabric!" He walked over to Enoch and tried to pinch in the sides of his shirt. Enoch flinched away from him.

"It's fine." He snapped. "I like it this way."

"I'm not so sure, Enoch. Won't you try on the clothes I picked out for you?"

Enoch rolled his eyes and went into the stall muttering to himself.

Horace leaned against the wall opposite the stall, giving a large bearded man an awkward smile as he passed.

A few minutes went by.

"…Are you dressed yet?" Horace knocked on the stall door.

"This is dumb." Came Enoch's muffled reply. "This is stupid and dumb and-"

Horace rolled his eyes.

"Let me see at least."

The door opened and Enoch hesitantly stepped out, looking extremely uncomfortable in the navy shirt and dress pants Horace had picked out.

Horace's face split into a smile and he clasped his hands together in excitement.

"Ohh you look great!" He gushed. "I've never seen you in clothes this nice!"

"Would you keep your voice down?" Enoch muttered, scowling at his feet and tugging his shirt down.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Horace laughed. "Oh _Enoch_! You look so dignified now!"

"Dignified isn't the word I would use." Enoch muttered, shifting uncomfortably in front of the mirror and pulling his shirt down again. "This shirt's way too small. You can see my stomach."

"No you can't." Horace laughed, waving away his concerns. "You're just used to those ridiculous oversized clothes so it seems small." Then he beamed. "Oh this is so much fun! Here, here, try on these next." He pushed some clothes into Enoch's arms, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Enoch unfolded the clothes and held up a russet-coloured turtleneck and a pair of ripped skinny jeans. He screwed up his face. Horace seemed not to notice, still babbling happily.

"You seemed to prefer denim, so I thought you'd like these." Horace explained, gesturing to the jeans. "I tried complaining to the store owner about the damages-" He frowned as he poked his fingers through the ripped knees. "-but apparently it's meant to be that way."

Enoch shook his head, frowning.

"Horace, I don't-"

"Oh nonsense, you'll look great. Go try them on."

Enoch sighed and disappeared into the stall again.

…

Almost ten minutes later, and Horace was still waiting for Enoch to leave the stall.

"…Enoch? Not to pressure you but-"

"I _hate_ you." Enoch muttered. "What were you thinking? These clothes are too small. I look stupid."

Horace smirked.

"I'll be the judge of that." He said. "Come on."

Enoch unlocked the door, standing in front of him like he'd rather die than be here right now. Horace just beamed, fussing over him as Enoch winced and stared at the ground, tugging uncomfortably at the jeans.

"See, I told you. They're too small." He muttered.

Horace shook his head, smiling. "The clothes are fine Enoch. They fit you perfectly."

"No they don't! These bloody pants are too tight. They make my legs look weird."

"Your legs look fine."

"I can't move in them for Bird's sake!"

"That's fine." Horace assured him. "Just try not to run too much in them."

"I can't even _breathe_ in these bloody things!" Enoch spat, clawing the turtleneck away from his throat.

"Oh don't be dramatic." Horace laughed. "Enoch, they're not even very tight. Look, you've got plenty of room." He went to pull at the shirt but Enoch flinched away from him again, face flushing red as he scowled.

"Well I'm not wearing them!" He snapped.

"Alright, try on some other clothes then!" Horace held up his hands in surrender. "Don't lash out at me. It's not _my_ fault you're being difficult."

"_I'm_ being difficult?"

"Yes! I'm trying to help you, but you're not interested in wearing anything that doesn't make you look atrocious!"

Enoch scowled.

"Good to know I look atrocious." Enoch spat. "Thanks for letting me know what you really think of me."

"No, Enoch I-"

Enoch glared at him, shoving past him into the stall.

Less than a minute later, he stormed out in his usual clothes, his hair messy from where he'd clearly pulled them roughly over his head. When Horace tried to speak Enoch thrust the balled up clothes he'd tried on into his chest. Horace fumbled to catch them.

"Go dress a mannequin if I'm such a problem." Enoch spat. "At least it won't be able to say anything against you."

"Enoch-" Horace looked hurt.

"You can wait for Jacob to pick you up if you want. I'm walking home."

…

Jacob pulled up outside the mall twenty minutes later, but Horace barely spoke to him on the way back. The moment he walked in the door, he was accosted by the other peculiars, who all looked amused.

"What did you do?" Emma asked. "I asked Enoch how shopping went and he flipped me off and slammed his door in my face."

"He's now sulking in his room." Millard added.

Horace sighed, annoyed.

"I don't know what his problem is. He ruined a perfectly good shopping trip."

"Sounds like typical Enoch to me." Jacob shrugged.

…

Horace sat at the dining table, tracing grooves in the wood with his finger, a frown on his face. He was still annoyed at Enoch, who hadn't left his room in hours. Did he really intend to sulk like a child all day?

"Unbelievable." He muttered to himself, glaring daggers at the door down the hall where he knew Enoch was hiding.

He tried to distract himself by watching Bronwyn, who had spent the last half an hour dressing up Claire for Olive's tea party. Bronwyn had picked out a pretty blue dress for her, had managed to avoid amputation via Claire's backmouth as she wrangled her hair into two very uneven pigtails tied with matching blue ribbons, and had even borrowed some of Mrs Portman's blue eye shadow to put on the little girl's eyelids. Claire herself had spent the time practically jumping up and down with excitement at 'how marvellous and pretty she would look', but when the time came for the big reveal in front of the mirror, her face fell.

"What's wrong little magpie? Don't you like it?" Bronwyn asked worriedly.

"No no I do. I look splendid!" Claire assured her. "I'm just not sure if blue is my colour..." She said thoughtfully. Then she beamed. "I know! Pink!"

"Pink?" Bronwyn frowned, and Claire nodded emphatically.

"Make it pink!"

Horace expected Bronwyn to get annoyed, or complain about having to start over after all the time she'd wasted. But instead she just smiled, looking just as excited as Claire.

"That's an excellent idea magpie! You go run and find a pink dress you like and I'll see if Mrs Portman has any pink hair clips in her drawer."

Claire beamed and raced down the hall excitedly. Bronwyn shook her head, grinning. Horace gave her a dumbstruck look.

"How did you do that? How are you perfectly fine with her not liking your outfit after all that effort? Aren't you hurt?" He asked her, but Bronwyn just shrugged.

"I don't mind it so much. I like spending time with Claire- she's a sweetheart." She said. "I just want her to be happy, because that makes me happy too."

Claire came bounding back down the hall in a poofy pink dress, looking thrilled. She did a little curtsy and Bronwyn laughed, clapping happily.

Horace's frown softened and he felt his annoyance dissipate. He started to feel guilty.

"Would you excuse me?" He asked, getting up from the table and heading down the hall.

Horace stopped in front of Enoch's room and hesitantly knocked on the door.

"Can I come in Enoch? It's Horace."

"Piss off." Came Enoch's muffled reply.

"Please?"

There was silence for a moment, then Enoch threw the door open.

"What?" He spat.

"I've been thinking about what happened earlier." Horace started hesitantly. "…And it's come to my attention that I _may_ have been a little controlling."

Enoch's scowl lessened slightly and he walked away from the doorway to sit on the bed.

"A _little_?"

Horace followed him, shutting the door behind him. He sat next to Enoch.

"Alright, a lot." He relented. "I was being insensitive to your feelings. I wasn't listening when you were trying to tell me you were uncomfortable. This trip was supposed to be about you, but I made it about me. I guess I was just excited and got too carried away. I'm sorry."

Enoch picked at his nails, not meeting Horace's eyes.

"That's okay." He mumbled. Then he shrugged. "And anyway, it's not your fault. It was just me being stupid. I should have just shut up, then you wouldn't have to be upset."

Horace frowned.

"No, I-"

Enoch cut him off before he could respond.

"It's just… yeah okay, those clothes were fine- on _you_. But on _me..._"

"I understand Enoch. I was dressing you in clothes _I_ liked, without considering that you might have different taste to me."

Enoch shook his head, annoyed that Horace wasn't listening.

"No, you don't get it. I _did_ like the clothes, okay? Well… maybe not all of them… some of them made me look pretentious. But most of them I liked, and that's why it's so annoying! No matter _what_ I like I can't ever wear decent clothes."

Horace looked at him, bewildered.

"Of course you can. Why wouldn't you?"

Enoch glared at him like he was being purposefully thick.

"Um, maybe because I look _terrible_ in clothes like that? You saw me. I barely fit in them. I was bulging out of half of them, they're probably all stretched now, anyone who saw me would have laughed or thought I was disgusting-"

"Enoch that's not true-"

"Yes it is! Everything I wear makes me look stupid, I know that! I'm not blind. But I thought that maybe, just _maybe_ modern clothes would be better and I could actually look half decent. But these clothes were _worse_!" He cried.

Horace shook his head, completely at a loss as to where this was all coming from. All he'd wanted was to find Enoch some nice modern clothes that didn't clash horribly or look like he'd stolen them from a homeless person. Instead he now had Enoch furious and ranting about how he looked, something Horace had assumed he cared nothing about.

Horace was about to retort something in response when he saw the tears in Enoch's eyes. Enoch caught him watching and quickly looked away, but it didn't matter because Horace finally understood. The real problem had been right in front of him the whole time. It should have been a dead giveaway when Enoch was constantly trying to pull his shirts down, or wincing when he looked in the mirror. Horace touched his arm.

"You shouldn't be self conscious of your weight, Enoch." He said gently.

Enoch just scowled at him.

"Easy for you to say." He spat. "Look at you! You're a stick."

Horace raised his eyebrows at him.

"Which means I'm constantly freezing, bruise like a peach, and can't ever wear loose-fitting clothes without being swamped by fabric. No one's body is perfect. And quite honestly if I had half a say in the matter I'd have a body like yours."

Enoch's cheeks flooded red.

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not." Horace promised him. "You don't have to hide yourself in oversized clothes the way you do. There's wearing loose clothes for comfort and then there's wearing them because you're afraid of what others think. And I promise you no one will think any less of you for having seen the real you."

Enoch scoffed.

"Oh please. No one wants to see _this_." He gestured at himself in disgust. Horace grabbed both Enoch's hands and looked him in the eyes.

"_I_ do."

Enoch stared at him in awe, eyes scanning over his face for a lie. He found none.

The fight went out of him and he buried his face in Horace's shoulder, overwhelmed with emotion. Horace smiled in surprise- Enoch wasn't usually one to be vulnerable or show affection. He kissed Enoch's temple and hugged him tight.

"Why don't we go back to the store tomorrow?" Horace said after a while. "You choose clothes you want to wear, and I won't say a word. I don't even have to wait in the change room for you if you don't want. None of that ridiculous parading around of outfits. You don't have to ask my opinion on anything, it'll be completely your choice." When Enoch didn't respond, Horace looked worried and he added quickly, "Or I don't have to come at all if you don't want me there. I'd understand if you don't-"

Enoch pulled away from him, wiping his eyes quickly.

"No, I want you to come." He assured him, then grinned. "Like you said, Jacob chose you as quality control for a reason, right?"

Horace laughed and Enoch suddenly looked away, embarrassed.

"Thank you." He said softly. Horace smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Any time." He said. Then he raised an eyebrow. "But next time, just _tell_ me when I'm being a pain in the ass, won't you? I don't want to steal your job."

Enoch grinned and shoved him.

"I _hate_ you." He laughed, and Horace kissed his cheek.

"I hate you too."

**Thanks for reading! Any suggestions for future chapters?**


	3. Clothes Part 2

**Hi guys! I feel like I'm apologising for long hiatuses every chapter, but sorry! This one took a while too. I've been really busy studying for/starting my last year of high school, so it's been hard to find the time to write. But don't worry- I'm not going anywhere! You might just have to wait a little longer between chapters, so thanks for your support and patience :)**

**This chapter is a part two of the previous one, requested by Eventide66. (I'm still writing the other requested chapter, so that should be done soon!)**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Clothes Pt. 2

Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida

Genre: Fluff

* * *

The next day, Horace managed to convince Jacob to drive them to the shops again. Jacob looked at him pityingly and said in a low voice,

"You know you don't actually have to go with him right? I'm sure someone else can throw themselves on that sword."

Horace pursed his lips.

"No thanks. I'm perfectly happy to go without any stabbing involved." He said adamantly.

The others acted as though Enoch was some kind of mildly annoying burden that had to be tolerated in shifts between them, and always seemed surprised that Horace genuinely wanted to spend time with him. He supposed they assumed he did it out of some kind of pity for Enoch (or perhaps insanity on his own part), something that had always bothered Horace, but it wasn't as though he could ever explain the truth.

Jacob just took in Horace's defiant expression and shrugged.

"Suit yourself." He said, grabbing his keys as Enoch rounded the corner. Enoch looked excited- he grinned at Horace when he saw him and as they walked to the car he was close enough to bump Horace with his shoulder a few times. Enoch seemed to forget about personal space when he was happy- with Horace at least. He gave Jacob a wide berth as they got in the car.

…

"Alright, where to first?" Horace asked as they stood in the huge mall. It once would have intimidated him, but he'd gotten a lot more used to modern culture over the last few months, and thanks to Jacob's normalising lessons, he practically knew this mall like the back of his hand. "Enoch?"

Horace glanced over at him, but doubt had clouded Enoch's face. He was staring at his feet, suddenly looking nervous. Horace reached out to brush Enoch's hand with his fingers- it was the most he dared to do with all these people around, but it was enough to bring Enoch back to reality.

"What? Oh uh… that one." He shrugged, pointed at random to one of the shops. Horace smiled at him as they headed towards it.

"That one it is."

They walked through the store, Enoch looking more confident now.

"Okay so remember- no forcing me to get things, no complaining and definitely no judging." Enoch said, and Horace mimed zipping his lips. Enoch rolled his eyes.

"Come on." He grinned, pulling Horace towards the clothing racks.

Enoch wandered the isles, grabbing armfuls of shirts to try on, and Horace followed him happily, content to be reduced to a human clothing-holder.

"What do you think of this?" Enoch held up a leather jacket.

Horace's reply was muffled by the pile of clothes in his arms, and Enoch grinned sheepishly, taking half from him.

"I'd better try these on, then."

"Will they even let you in with that many?" Horace smirked, and Enoch shrugged.

"If not, I'll just threaten them with this." He held up a scalpel and mimed stabbing it in someone.

"Wh-what! No, Enoch! Where did you even get that from?" Horace spluttered as Enoch grinned, taking the rest of the clothes from him and already heading to the change rooms. "Enoch wait! Please tell me you're not serious!" He called after him.

…

Horace wandered the racks of clothes, waiting for Enoch and keeping an ear out for any screaming normals, but thankfully Enoch decided not to hold up the shopping centre. Horace rolled his eyes, grinning to himself as he trailed his fingers over a few jackets. He made a mental note to avoid any shops selling knives, or they'd never get out of here. Staying silent had been harder than he expected- several times while he was waiting he found clothes that would be perfect for Enoch, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running into the change rooms and insisting he try them on.

As expected, despite the mountain of clothes Enoch had picked out, he returned ten minutes later with only three that actually fit, looking annoyed.

"Do they not know how to make clothes in the twenty first century?" He scoffed. Horace just laughed.

"I told you, it's all capitalism."

They bought the clothes- a pair of t-shirts and the black leather jacket that Enoch ended up liking so much he wore it out of the store (Horace thought it made him look a little like a wannabe biker, but it was cute to see Enoch so happy)- and milled around the main part of the mall. Enoch's earlier excitement was coming back now, and he leaned against Horace as they went up the escalator, babbling happily about a pair of pricey skull sneakers he'd seen yesterday, and whether Jacob would let him buy them, before deciding "screw Jacob" and announcing he'd get them just to spite him.

Enoch looked so happy- with the circles under his eyes not so dark, his usual frown lines gone and his eyes lighting up as he talked- that it filled Horace with warmth and made his head go light. Enoch was glowing, and Horace couldn't look away. He wanted to kiss him right then and there.

Smiling now too, Horace absentmindedly cursed himself for wasting yesterday instead of having the whole day with happy-Enoch. Horace was so busy staring at him that he didn't realise they'd reached the top and he tripped up the escalator. Enoch snorted, teasing him, and Horace rolled his eyes; his shins- and his ego- a little bruised.

They made a beeline for the shoe shop and Horace tried not to scoff at the prices of some of the sneakers around him. Honestly, the expenses some people went to for a shoe made of ugly neon mesh and cheap rubber were horrifying to him. He pretended not to notice the price tag on Enoch's shoes as his boyfriend paid for them with Jacob's credit card. He made a mental note to not be around when Jacob saw his bank statement.

After a couple of hours, they decided to have a break and went down to the food court for some ice cream. Horace wasn't sure who Ben and Jerry were, but their ice cream seemed to be popular. Enoch got two scoops of a flavour called 'New York Super Fudge Chunk' ("We're not even _in_ New York." Horace complained), which was a culinary cacophony of chocolate ice cream, white and dark chocolate chunks and three (three!) different kinds of chocolate covered nuts, that made him fear for Enoch's pancreas.

Horace got vanilla.

They found a table and sat together. Enoch was staring at Horace and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Are you seriously telling me that with all these new flavours in the future, you're here eating _vanilla_?" Enoch scoffed, chocolate already dripping down his hand. Horace hurriedly passed him a napkin.

"Well, _I_ for one love vanilla- it's the original after all. I don't see why they had to complicate things." He said snootily, and Enoch just rolled his eyes.

"So I'm guessing you don't want to try any of mine?" He grinned.

"And sky-rocket my cholesterol levels? There's a heart disease epidemic, Enoch."

Enoch just snorted.

"Suit yourself."

They sat in comfortable silence, eating and watching passersby.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want some?" Enoch smirked after a while, as he caught Horace in his third longing look at his ice cream.

"No thank you. My body is my temple." Horace replied. Then he suddenly pointed. "Ooh Enoch look!" Enoch spun around and Horace quickly stole a little of his ice ream with his spoon. He shoved it in his mouth as Enoch turned back around, looking between him and the ice cream with narrowed eyes.

"…Horace did you just-"

"No!"

"Yes you did."

"I did not."

"You've got chocolate around your mouth you idiot." Enoch snorted, and when Horace uttered a little, embarrassed,"Oh", he burst out laughing.

Horace continued stealing spoonfuls of Enoch's ice cream until he rolled he eyes and gave him the rest. Enoch sulked as he suffered through Horace's "boring as sin" vanilla ice cream, but he didn't mind half as much as he pretended to. He liked seeing Horace enjoying himself, looking like a little kid and eating with a huge smile on his face and eyes as big as dinner plates. Modern ice cream clearly trumped vanilla.

Horace caught him staring and Enoch went red, glancing away.

"You're cute." He mumbled quietly.

Horace choked on his ice cream.

…

Soon they were off again, zigzagging through clothing stores, finding a few things here and there, and Horace was happy to notice Enoch being less self-conscious about his clothes. He chose slightly more form-fitting styles and fewer things in all black (thank God). He even let Horace see a few outfits he'd tried on, and surprisingly, more often than not Enoch's choices weren't bad. A little dark and brooding to be fair, and maybe a few too many skulls (didn't he spend enough time with the dead already?), but Enoch looked happy and himself in these clothes, and it made Horace genuinely excited when he found something Enoch might like.

He was busy searching the racks, humming quietly to himself, when Enoch came over to him, grinning.

"I've found the perfect pants!" He said, holding up a garishly-patterned monstrosity that Horace assumed were meant to be sweatpants, but looked like they'd ceased to be clothing and had morphed into some kind of pant-shaped pile of neon.

Part of Horace died inside just looking at them.

Knowing he'd made a promise, Horace attempted to be supportive or at least lie that he liked them, but his voice died in his throat, unable to even muster the words. He succeeded only in looking a Enoch with a helpless, pained expression on his face, his mouth open but no sound coming out. He forced his mouth into what he hoped was a smile.

"They're- they're… great." He managed to finally choke out, and Enoch burst out laughing.

"Your face!" He cried. "Bird, I wish I had a camera. I was kidding you dolt!"

Horace slumped with relief, hand over his heart.

"Oh thank _God_. Don't scare me like that Enoch! I nearly had a heart attack." He cried, grinning.

Enoch snorted, then straightened up and put on a mock-policeman's voice.

"Hello Mr O'Connor, do you mind telling me how your boyfriend died?"

Horace laughed, joining in with an impression of Enoch.

"I'm sorry officer, it was the sweatpants! The hideousness was too much for him to take!"

"Well excuse _me_." A voice scolded. They looked up to see a large woman scowling at them.

She was wearing the sweatpants.

Horace and Enoch stared at her in surprise, then collapsed into fits of laughter as she waddled away, muttering to herself. Horace clutched Enoch's arm, wheezing.

"I love Americans." He giggled.

…

They continued wandering the shops, and Horace was just looking at their shopping bags, thinking about how well today had gone, when Enoch suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Hey, lets go there." He said, pointing to the Hot Topic store that Horace had avoided like the plague on the first day. Horace paled.

"Oh dear, not that Bird-awful shop." He begged, forgetting his promise for a moment. Enoch scowled, looking a little hurt. Then he shrugged.

"Fine, you wait out here then. But I'm going in to look." He insisted, dumping his shopping in Horace's arms. Horace stood, watching him go guiltily. This was the shop Enoch had been most passionate about, and he'd promised to be supportive. He wasn't about to stop now.

Horace took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

"Into the lion's den I go." He muttered, then walked into the store.

Inside, it was even worse than he could have imagined. The store was a grungy, dimly-lit industrial-looking hovel of exposed brick and black paint. Everywhere he looked he was surrounded by a chaotic mish-mash of synthetic fabric, plastic packaging and fandom ephemera that he didn't understand. Tables overflowing with strange trinkets, clothes and accessories were surrounded by racks upon racks of more of the same, all cluttered and closing in on him as they ran floor to ceiling. Everything about its layout seemed to be designed to give anyone over twenty-five (and a certain well-dressed boy from 1940) an anxiety attack.

Worst of all, in the blink of an eye Enoch had completely disappeared. Horace spun around, scanning the shop for him amongst the strange products and even stranger customers, but he seemed to have vanished. He tried not to panic.

"Hey there, can I help you?"

Horace looked up to see a green-haired teenage employee with tattoos and a septum piercing towering over him. He yelped and stumbled back, crashing straight into a girl with dark hair and heavy eyeliner. She glared at him and Horace hurried away from the two of them, finally finding Enoch again on the other side of the store.

"Oh thank the Bird!" He cried desperately, holding onto Enoch's arm for dear life, "This is a house of _horrors_." He moaned.

Enoch, by comparison, was beaming.

"They have all kinds of things here Horace! They've got hats, they've got backpacks, they've got all these weird piercing things- should I get my ears pieced?- anyway, oh, and they've got _these_ things." He held out a strange plastic toy with an over-size head, laughing at it even as he showed Horace. "It's ridiculous! What does it even do?"

"Adds needless clutter to your home?" Horace suggested distastefully.

"Oh _boo_." Enoch complained.

They walked a little further through the isles, passing a table filled with merchandise celebrating strange alien-looking creatures apparently dubbed "Poky-mon". Enoch snorted in disgust when he saw them, shaking his head.

"This shop his great." He grinned.

Horace sniffed, looking around at all the dark, shapeless clothing branded with self-deprecating phrases, shadowy lighting with lots of places to hide and customers milling around silently, not interacting.

"Oh yes, I can see why _you_ would like it here." He said with a raised eyebrow. Enoch just narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, what did I say about judging me?"

"That wasn't a judgement! That was a fair observation." Horace shrugged.

"Same thing."

Horace just rolled he eyes and shut his mouth.

As he followed Enoch around the store, Horace started to understand a bit more the things that Enoch liked- and didn't. Horace stopped looking for things that he himself would wear (which were certainly few and far between in this place), and instead copied Enoch's style. Soon he was buzzing with excitement again, seeing so many outfits he could put together, colours that would tie in with each other, fabric and cut that would be perfect- he could barely stop himself from dragging Enoch to the nearest isle.

He glanced around him as he waited for Enoch to try on a few things, and concluded with a smirk that this was the Enoch of stores- dirty, confusing and a little antisocial- though not too bad if you stuck around long enough.

Enoch stepped out of the changing stall, grinning in a loose grey graphic t-shirt and a pair of black jeans remarkably similar to the pair he'd liked the day before (though much more form-fitting and looking like they would actually fit him properly, Horace noted proudly), as well as a black studded belt that Enoch looked particularly proud of.

"You look great!" Horace beamed, holding him at arms length and looking him over.

"Yeah?" Enoch looked a little embarrassed, tugging at the hem of his shirt absentmindedly.

"Yes! You should definitely get these. I like the jeans, they suit you. And…oh-!"

Horace suddenly gasped and released Enoch, thinking of all the clothes he'd seen that would go perfectly with his outfit. He clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to force Enoch to get anything, but feeling like he was going to explode.

Enoch just snorted.

"Bird, Horace, don't give yourself an aneurysm." He grinned, "You _can_ talk you know."

"Oh thank god." Horace slumped in relief. "Goodness, I've got so many things I wanted to show you!" He darted away. "Wait there!" He called over his shoulder, leaving a smirking Enoch behind him. "I saw the perfect thing!"

He rushed back excitedly holding up a dark blue bomber jacket.

"Try this on won't you? You don't have to get it of course, but I thought it'd go wonderfully with your outfit."

He watched excitedly as Enoch pulled it on.

"Oh and here, try tucking your shirt a little at the front." Horace said, reaching forward to arrange his shirt better, "That way you can actually see the belt."

Then his face lit up again and he clapped his hands together.

"Ooh, I just thought of something! Stay there!"

"Horace…" Enoch mumbled, a little embarrassed. Horace bit his lip sheepishly.

"Last thing, okay?" He promised.

He came back holding a black beanie with a skull on the front of it. He stepped closer to Enoch and pulled it over his head.

Enoch ducked away from him slightly, fixing the beanie so his hair wasn't over his eyes too much, then turned assess his new outfit in the mirror.

Horace stood behind him anxiously as Enoch stared at himself in silence for a moment.

"Well…?" Horace ventured, "What do you think?"

The brilliant, beaming smile on Enoch's face when he turned to look at him was the only answer Horace needed.

**Hope you enjoyed! **


	4. Reveal Part 1

**Hi guys! Sorry for the wait! **

**This fic was requested by Eventide66, Someone, and a guest... and I got a little carried away with it. It's kind of long (So much for oneshots haha. I hope you don't find it boring!) so I've split it into three parts that I'll post at the same time.**

**I hope you like it!**

_Chapter 4: Reveal part 1_

_Synopsis: The peculiars try to force Horace into getting a girlfriend, but their attempts are halted when the truth comes out._

_Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida_

_Genre/s: Angst/Fluff_

**(DISCLAIMER- For all the oneshots set in the present (i.e. after Library of Souls), I'm just going write as if the events at the end of Map of Days and in Conference of the Birds didnt happen, 1. To avoid spoiling it for people who haven't read them, and 2. Because that just complicates things lol. But Fiona will be alive and well in these regardless bc I love her and want her around. Okay, enjoy the fic!)**

* * *

"Absolutely not. Under no circumstances." Horace shook his head.

He was standing rigidly by the door of the Portman's study, while Enoch sat on their desk, playing with a stapler. Enoch had dragged him in there a few minutes ago because he had 'something important to ask him.' Horace didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Enoch we are not-" He glanced worriedly at the door as someone's footsteps creaked past. He waited for them to fade out. "_-We are not telling them about us!_" He whispered tersely.

Enoch put down the stapler, looking annoyed.

"Seriously? Come on Horace! I mean, this is _me_ suggesting this. _Me_, of all people."

"And this is me asking you if you are insane."

"Horace, we've been in the twenty first century for _months_ now. You heard Jacob- it's not illegal for two boys to be together anymore. We could even get… you know… _married_ if we wanted." He cleared his throat and looked away, clearly embarrassed.

He seemed so hopeful that it hurt Horace a little to crush his dreams.

"Enoch I said no."

"But why? I thought you'd be all for it."

Horace sighed,

"Because I've been outed before, alright? And I don't intend to repeat the experience."

"What? When?" Enoch looked surprised.

"Before I came to live with Miss Peregrine. One of the boys at my boarding school found out and told everyone. It was awful- I'm just lucky Miss Peregrine happened to find me before my family found out, or I would have been living on the streets. Or worse."

"You never told me that." Enoch frowned.

"Well I didn't think it was very relevant- it was decades ago after all… but that's beside the point! The point is that this is a very, very bad idea, Enoch."

"But this is different. These are our _friends_."

Horace shook his head.

"Some of the boys at the boarding school were my friends too until they found out about me and turned into homophobic thugs overnight."

"Well, okay… but that was what? The thirties? We're in the twenty first century now."

"With our friends who spent their entire lives in the twentieth!"

"You're just being a coward." Enoch snapped.

"And you're being a naive fool!" Horace cried, glaring at him.

The confidence drained out of Enoch.

"You seriously think they're going to hate us?" He asked quietly.

"You seriously think they'd be okay with it?" Horace countered.

"I guess you're right." Enoch relented, and Horace relaxed slightly. "But what if you're _not_?" He asked hopefully, and Horace face-palmed.

"Enoch, _no_. We are not telling them. Ever." He looked at Enoch. "Just promise me you won't go and tell them behind my back."

"I won't. I wouldn't do that to you." Enoch assured him. "Plus do you seriously think I'd have the guts to tell everyone like that? I hope you realise that if we do end up telling them, you're doing all the talking."

Horace just rolled his eyes, relieved, as Bronwyn poked her head in to tell them breakfast was ready.

…

A few days later, the peculiars were walking through Devil's Acre together towards their respective jobs. The reconstruction effort was still in full swing, keeping them busy with mindless errands that made Horace die a little inside. He was happily chatting to Enoch when Jacob nudged him.

"There's that girl again." He gestured with his head to a dark-haired girl about Horace's age, who stood primly outside the ymbryne's building, smiling in Horace's direction. "She waits there for you every day." Jacob said, sounding amused.

"That's just Penelope." Horace explained, shrugging. "She works with me in the Costumes Department, and we've become friends due to our shared love of high fashion."

Today she wore a sleek black calf-length skirt, a tucked-in white blouse with a pearl necklace and a crisply ironed, tailored white coat. It made her look a little like an old-fashioned secretary, despite the fact that she didn't look more than fourteen years old.

When Horace approached she beamed and waved at him.

"Oh Horace! Hello there!"

"Good morning Penelope." Horace greeted, then he saw her clothes and gasped. "I simply _love_ the jacket you've chosen today-you must get me in touch with your tailor." He said, touching the sleeve. "This fabric is marvellous. Is it linen?"

Penelope blushed a little and giggled.

"Oh I wish. You flatter me Horace dear, but it's only cotton. However," She lowered her voice and leaned towards him like she was telling him a secret. "Look what I perfected last night." She held out her arm and touched her fingers to her sleeve until the white jacket suddenly bled with colour into a pale salmon pink.

Horace's face broke into a delighted smile.

"Oh you've figured out how to make the salmon work!" He cried excitedly. "That's brilliant!"

Penelope's cheeks blushed the colour of her jacket.

"Well it was nothing really." She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear bashfully. "Once I realised that white helps the colours show up better, I just tried all the fabrics I had. For some reason cotton works the best, though silk was a close second."

"Marvellous! I've got a cotton shirt I've been working on for the 1960s collection, and the salmon would work wonderfully. Otherwise I was thinking a light blue- could you change it to that?"

"Oh of course." Penelope gushed, practically leaning on his arm, "Blue is one of the easiest for me to do- I'll change it for you before I start on my own."

"Thank you." Horace smiled, then held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"

They walked into the building together.

"…Well, she seems nice." Bronwyn ventured, nodding approval. "Isn't it sweet that Horace has a lovely new friend to talk to?"

She looked around at the others, waiting for them to agree, but they were all just smirking, glancing at each other. The second Horace was out of earshot, they collapsed into snorts of laughter.

"What is it?" Bronwyn frowned.

"Only that I don't think she wants to be friends at all." Emma grinned. "She clearly fancies him."

"What?" Enoch scoffed.

"It's a little obvious." Millard shrugged.

"That's so cute!" Olive gushed. "We should help them get together."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. You don't even know for sure that she fancies him." Enoch grumbled.

_"Oh Horace my dear." _Hugh mocked in a high pitch voice_, _swooning against him_._

_"Let's talk about clothes and run away together Horace." _Jacob joined in, and Enoch shoved them off him, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions a little bit here?"

"Oh don't be such a grump. Anyone can see they're perfect for each other." Emma said, and Enoch snorted.

"Please, as if Horace would fall for a girl."

The others stared at him and Enoch's eyes went wide. "…Like that! A girl like that." He recovered quickly.

Thankfully, the others just dismissed him immediately.

"Why are we listening to him for relationship advice anyway? He's never even dated anyone." Hugh said.

Enoch shrugged.

"Well, go ahead then. It'll be a laugh when you lot make fools out of yourselves."

Suddenly, Miss Peregrine came hurrying out of the ymbryne headquarters, files and paper overflowing from her arms.

"What are all of you doing out here?" She scolded. "You're all late for your shifts!"

"I'm sorry Miss Peregrine, we were just-" Emma started, but Miss Peregrine was already dismissing her, in a rush. She looked so stressed that it made Enoch glad he wasn't an ymbryne.

…

Horace returned from his shift to find the other peculiars waiting expectantly for him.

"_So_…how was your day with Penelope?" Emma prompted him with raised eyebrows. The others sniggered, and Horace looked confusedly between them.

"It was normal, I suppose. I'm sorry, is something funny?"

Enoch had appeared in the stairwell, wiping bloody hands on his overalls.

"They think she fancies you." He said, sounding mildly disgusted.

Horace laughed.

"What? Penelope? Nonsense! She's just a friend, of course she doesn't-"

He saw the looks on his friends faces and paled.

"Oh Bird, you really think so?"

"Oh definitely." Emma said.

"You two will make such a sweet couple." Olive gushed, and Claire agreed, nodding so hard her curls bounced. Horace frowned.

"Well hold on now-"

"Don't be shy Horace! You just have to ask her." Bronwyn insisted.

"N-no, wait, I don't-"

"Congratulations mate." Hugh clapped him on the shoulder, "Now it's only Enoch without a girlfriend."

"Hey!" Enoch scowled.

Horace was looking between his friends' beaming faces in panic.

"I don't even fancy her!" He fretted. "She's just a friend-"

But the others weren't even listening to him anymore, with Bronwyn starting a huddle to discuss a plan for Horace to confess his love. Claire exclaimed excitedly that they should hire "that lovely band of bog-men" from Devil's Acre to "make it more romantic."

Horace looked like he would like very much to die right then and there.

The only one not participating was Enoch, who was grinning at Horace from his seat on the stairs.

"Well I'm glad you think it's funny." Horace grumbled dejectedly. Enoch shrugged,

"This is the most interesting thing that's happened in days."

"Thanks for the support here, really appreciate it." Horace muttered.

Enoch smirked and blew him a kiss. Horace just gave him a withering look.

…

The next day, the others excitedly pushed Horace through Devil's Acre, explaining a very chaotic, complicated plan to ask Penelope on a date that Horace only heard about half of, since everyone kept talking over one another and confusing themselves. All he knew was that it somehow involved both fireworks and crocodiles, though he suspected that was just Olive dramatising things.

"There she is!" Bronwyn cried excitedly as soon as Penelope was in view. Today she was in a baby blue dress with a matching silk shawl across her shoulders. Horace wanted nothing more than to ask her whether it was charmeuse or crepe de chine, but his friends had other ideas. Enoch snorted as a red rose was shoved into Horace's hands, and he was lost in a blur of encouraging words before finally being released and shoved towards Penelope. The peculiars greeted her amusedly, before quickly hurrying away, though he knew they'd be watching from afar.

"Er… hello Penelope." Horace began a little awkwardly, crossing the dirty cobblestones towards her.

"Horace! Good morning." She beamed. "What do you think of today's attire?" She asked, doing a little twirl to show him how her skirt spun.

"Oh, it's wonderful…" He frowned, swallowing hard. Normally he'd be thrilled- he could see even from here that she'd managed to create the shades of blue perfectly, and he could tell the fabric of her dress was extremely expensive- but his mind was preoccupied.

Namely by the rose in his hands- which, in his nerves, he was gripping around the thorns hard enough to draw blood.

Horace glanced behind him and, as he had predicted, a not-so-subtle Olive was peeking over one of the roofs, no doubt relaying everything she saw to the others who were pretending not to watch.

He was torn. Ask Penelope to be his girlfriend in order to seem normal and watch their kindling friendship crash and burn when it inevitably went wrong- or risk his friends' disappointment and suspicion if he refused. They would of course know immediately that he was hiding something- Millard and Emma's powers of deduction were unmatched, but even without them, his ineptitude at dishonesty meant even gullible Bronwyn could tell when he was lying. They would find out about he and Enoch the second he refused to give Penelope the rose. But could he really lie to her like that? It was cruel, and terribly immoral, and he really did enjoy her friendship-

Luckily for Horace his decision was made for him by Penelope noticing the rose on her own.

"Is that for me?" She asked hopefully. Horace flinched.

"Oh, er yes… I'm supposed to give this to you- I mean- this is for you…" He practically shoved it into her hands, desperate to get rid of it. Penelope giggled at his awkwardness. He supposed she thought he was being bashful.

Penelope blushed a little as she pressed it to her nose. She pulled it away and twirled it in her fingers.

"Oh it's gorgeous Horace." She gushed.

Horace opened and closed his mouth. How do you respond to that?

'Thank you?' 'You're welcome?' '_Please dear God someone come save me?'_

This would be so much simpler if he were giving it to Enoch. Horace would come up with some teasing, disdainful remark, and Enoch would act disgusted saying roses were girly and stupid, but Horace would be able to tell he was secretly touched, and that would be _that_. None of this ridiculous courtship or delicate conversation. He decided that girls were much easier to talk to when you were discussing clothes instead of confessing your pretend love for them.

Clothes! His brain latched onto that idea as a desperate attempt of escaping this humiliation.

"Your dress," He began quickly, "the colour is-"

"Horace would you like to go on a date with me?" Penelope suddenly blurted.

Horace's heart stopped. _Oh Bird oh Bird oh Bird._

What should he say? Yes? No?

His mouth opened but no sound came out. Penelope was watching him hopefully.

"It's alright if you're nervous." She laughed.

"No no it's not that it's just that I-" His throat closed over. He couldn't do this, he couldn't lie to her, he had to say no, he couldn't-

Penelope giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Meet me here after work tomorrow, okay?" She beamed, then darted away into the crowded street.

Horace was left to stand in dumbstruck, horrified shock as his friends rushed over to congratulate him, Enoch barely containing his laughter at Horace's expression.

Horace swallowed hard.

This was going to end very, very badly.

…

"Horace has a girlfriend, Horace has a _girlfriend!_" Claire sang at the top of her lungs all the way back to the Portman's house, turning heads as she went and leaving Horace thoroughly mortified.

"Horace would like to jump off a building." He mumbled bitterly to Enoch, who snorted.

"Thats the spirit."

The others couldn't seem to let the subject go- whether they were over moon like Bronwyn and the two younger girls, or just smirking and making jokes like the older peculiars- Horace couldn't avoid being reminded of his own stupidity every two seconds.

"_Why_ didn't I just say no?" He lamented to Enoch in a rare moment when he managed to escape the others. "I'm a fool! This could all have been over in two seconds without all this nonsense-"

"Hey Horace-" The door swung open and Hugh poked his head in with an apologetic look. "Olive's made you something- she says you have to wear it to your date tomorrow." He looked so grim that Horace could only imagine whatever it was would be hideous.

He was correct of course- Olive presented him with a glitter-covered paper bow tie that was still dripping craft glue. He took it gingerly and promised to wear it, regretting every life choice he'd ever made, while Enoch snickered behind him.

When supper time finally rolled around and Miss Peregrine returned from Devil's Acre, she was bombarded with an enthusiastic half-hour recount of the whole story from the peculiars (though mostly from Olive and Claire, who seemed to have deemed themselves experts on romance), down to the colour of Penelope's clothes and the type of rose Fiona had grown for Horace to give her. Horace felt sorry for Miss Peregrine, who looked exhausted but was nodding politely at their excitement- but mostly he felt sorry for himself. He sunk down in his seat in embarrassment as Bronwyn jumped in to tell Miss Peregrine how Penelope had kissed Horace on the cheek and what a "lovely, pretty girl" she seemed to be.

"Well, she does seem nice, Mr Somnusson." Miss Peregrine said finally, the first time she'd had a chance to speak since walking through the door. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

Nine pairs of eyes all turned to Horace, who had chosen that moment to take a sip of water, and he nearly choked.

"Y-yes, very excited." He assured her, forcing a smile.

…

Horace couldn't sleep at all that night- not that he'd have wanted to. He was almost certain that all this anxiety would have triggered a nightmare the second he fell asleep. After a little past one in the morning, he decided he couldn't take it any more and climbed out of bed. He padded silently across the spare room which he shared with Hugh and Millard and out into the landing. Jacob's house was very cold and minimalist (Horace would never understand modern architecture) with lots of polished concrete and glass interiors, so Horace didn't have to worry about creaky floorboards as he descended the stairs.

Even after months at the Portmans', Enoch still insisted on sleeping in the broom-cupboard nest he'd made on the first day (though occasionally he would get bored of this and steal someone's bed- much to his victim's annoyance), so Horace headed there first.

He was hoping to find Enoch awake, as he usually was at this time of the morning, and after wandering the house for a while and finding both the broom-cupboard and living room empty, Horace finally found him curled up in one of the arm chairs in the darkened cinema-room, watching a muted full-colour cartoon with a bored expression. Horace winced at the bluish glare and chaotic, neon-bright images on the television that bathed the room in a flickering glow. Horace couldn't help feeling overwhelmed any time someone turned one of these new televisions on, and he was glad Enoch had the sense to mute it.

"Morning." Horace greeted sleepily. Enoch leaped a foot in the air, cursing.

"You gave me a bloody heart attack!" He complained, and Horace shushed him quickly, glancing at the door.

"Don't wake the others up." He whispered. "Mind if I join you?"

"You can try." Enoch said, moving over as much as he could so Horace could squish into the armchair with him. After a brief tangle of limbs and Enoch cursing again, Horace managed to right himself. He leaned against Enoch, who looked a little flustered.

"What are you watching?" Horace asked quietly, desperate to distract himself from his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at a grey cartoon cat chasing around a cartoon mouse with a baseball bat. Enoch shrugged.

"Something dumb. Jacob mentioned it upset him as a kid, so I thought it'd be a laugh. Turns out it's just more proof that he's a bloody pansy."

The mouse had taken the bat from the cat now and had bludgeoned the cat over the head with it, causing an exaggerated lump to form. Enoch snickered.

"Gosh." Horace stared, appalled. "This is a children's show?"

"Supposedly. It's boring is what it is, but I can't stop watching it." Enoch grinned, then glanced at him. "…I couldn't sleep." He explained.

"Me neither." Horace said. "I'm worried about Penelope."

Enoch screwed up his face.

"Little Miss look-how-prim-and-proper-I-am? Why?"

Horace looked at him like he was insane.

"_Why_? Maybe because I have to go on a _date_ with her tomorrow, and pretend I find her even _remotely_ attractive in order to convince my friends I'm straight."

"Hmm. Sounds like a train wreck. Can I watch?"

Horace jabbed him in the side.

"Stop it will you? It's not funny." He sighed.

"It is a bit…" Enoch said and when Horace frowned at him he said, "Well just cancel on her then."

Horace shook his head.

"No, that's too rude… I'll just go on this one date then tell her it's not for me. That way it's like I've given her a chance."

"Alright, but it's your funeral." Enoch shrugged. "I'll bring the popcorn for when this backfires."

Horace rolled his eyes at him, turning back to the screen.

They sat for a little while, watching the cartoon cat being repeatedly killed and resurrected in countless ways that seemed to defy logic. Horace decided that if nothing else, it was therapeutic- thoughts of Penelope soon vanished from his mind as he listened to Enoch laughing softly beside him.

Horace shivered a little in the cold night air and shifted to get closer to Enoch, looping his arms around his waist and soaking up the warmth radiating off him. Horace rested his head in the crook of Enoch's neck and felt Enoch tense, his face flushing, before he relaxed and cautiously hugged Horace back. They lay in comfortable silence for a while, their bodies tangled together, and eventually Horace's drowsiness got the best of him. His eyes shut seemingly of their own accord as he was lulled to sleep by the steadily flickering lights of the television and Enoch's quiet breathing.

…

"Horace… Horaaaaace… _Hoooooraaace!_"

Horace was shaken awake roughly as sunlight streamed in through the window. He opened his eyes blearily to find a mass of blonde curls and an earnest doll-like face in his.

"What are you doing in here Horace?" Claire giggled, "You're going to be late for your shift!"

Horace sat up, his brain coming into focus. He was still in the armchair, alone now. Someone had placed a blanket over him in the night, and Horace had a very good idea of who. He smiled.

"Aright Claire, I'm coming." He said, climbing to his feet and heading to get ready.

Horace's good mood didn't last long, however. The others seemed to take every opportunity to remind him of his date, which he was trying very hard not to think about.

"It'll be great Horace." Jacob assured him.

"Yeah, just be yourself mate." Hugh nodded.

"And make sure to compliment her." Emma added.

"Oh I'm so excited for you Horace!" Bronwyn gave him a bone-crushing hug. "You two are so perfect together- its like you were made for each other."

"You'd think so." Horace mumbled, glancing to where Enoch was sitting across the room.

The rest of the day was no better, especially when he had to walk into work with Penelope, who looked so happy that it crushed him with guilt; and even more so when Bronwyn apparently couldn't contain herself any more and gave Penelope a huge hug, happily introducing her to everyone and all-but welcoming her to the family. By the time his shift ended, Horace didn't think he had ever dreaded anything more in his life.

"It's still not too late to call it off." Enoch shrugged, jogging to catch up with him as Horace headed for his meeting place with Penelope. A sudden awful thought occurred to Horace and he spun to Enoch, searching his face.

"Do you not want me to go? I'm so sorry Enoch, I never thought about how this would make you feel- if it's weird for you at all…"

"What?" Enoch scoffed, "What are you worrying about me for? You're the one who has to make googly-eyes at some girl." He grinned, shaking his head. "I told you already, I think this is hilarious- the fact that the others think you and this girl have any chemistry…"

"We do have a _little_ chemistry." Horace conceded. "I don't mind her as a friend…"

Enoch smirked.

"Well your 'friend' is right there waiting to go on a date with you." He pointed to where Penelope was standing in the crowd. Horace paled.

"Oh Bird."

"Good luck. Try not to vomit when she holds your hand."

…

Horace returned to the Portmans' house two hours later feeling incredibly drained. Who knew it was so exhausting pretending to fancy someone? His cheeks ached from polite-smiling and he had a the beginnings of a tension headache.

Horace went on a brief search, but the house appeared to be empty- everyone else was at their shifts, and Enoch had disappeared, presumably to go see the hanging in Devil's Acre. Horace shuddered a little, though he had to admit he was comforted by the thought that some poor sod was having a worse day than he was. His assumption about Enoch proved to be wrong, however, as he'd just poured himself a glass of water when-

"Ahhh it's a hollow! Look out!" Enoch yelled right behind him, clapping his hands on Horace's shoulders. Horace screamed and nearly shattered the glass.

"_Enoch!_" He cried, whirling around to face him as Enoch broke down into fits of laughter. "That's not funny!"

Once Enoch had finally managed to collect himself, he straightened up and grinned at Horace.

"So, how did your date with your new girlfriend go?"

"She does have a _name_ you know." Horace chided. "And the date was…" He trailed off, making a face. Enoch laughed again.

"That bad huh?"

Before Horace could respond there was the sound of the back door opening as Hugh and Fiona returned from their shifts.

Horace paled, pulling Enoch after him and out of the room.

"Quick- don't let them see me! They'll want me to tell them all about the date."

"So?"

"_So_ I'm not in the mood to gush about my love for a girl, thank you very much!"

Enoch smirked as Horace dragged him up the stairs and shoved him into the spare room, shutting the door behind them just as Hugh and Fiona reached the landing. Horace listened with bated breath as their footsteps faded away towards one of the other rooms, then finally relaxed. Enoch, by comparison, couldn't care less. He jumped onto the double bed, lying like a starfish on the blankets.

"You get a huge bed?" He scoffed. "No fair!"

"Actually, I get a mattress on the floor." Horace said curtly. "And anyway, you _chose_ to sleep in the cupboard!"

Enoch flicked a ball of lint at him.

"So the date didn't go so well then I take it?" He grinned.

Horace thought about it. To be honest, the date hadn't been as bad as he had expected- Penelope had taken him to a loop in Venice using the Panloopticon, and they'd spent the time walking past the canals talking about clothes. In fact, it would have been quite pleasant if they were just going as friends, but Horace had spent the whole time consumed by guilt at leading Penelope on, and Penelope didn't make it any easier by giggling and leaning against him in a way that Horace was sickened to realise was flirting. She'd seemed so happy that it made him feel like a monster, but at the same time he'd been terrified she might try to kiss him. Horace had an embarrassing thought of himself falling into the canal to get away from her- that would have ruined his clothes and certainly their friendship.

"Uhh… hello…?" Enoch waved his arm in the air to get Horace's attention, who had been lost in a swirl of anxious thoughts, still standing by the door.

"Oh er… no. It wasn't great."

"So you broke it off with her then?" Enoch raised an eyebrow. When Horace paled and didn't respond, Enoch looked at him. "You _did_ break it off right? Horace?"

"Well I wanted to!" Horace insisted worriedly. "But she didn't give me the chance! I was going to wait until the end and then just say 'well thank you, this was lovely, but I don't think we should go on another' but instead she was already babbling about where we'd go 'next time', and what we'd do 'next time', and I didn't know how to tell her I didn't _want_ a next time, so I-"

He was cut off by Enoch covering his face with his hands, and for a horrible moment Horace thought he had started to cry- but then he realised Enoch was wheezing with laughter. Horace shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't understand how you can be so fine with this! Though, it is rather refreshing to find you aren't the jealous type, if I'm honest. But… but how are you not worried about this?"

Enoch let his hands drop, still grinning.

"About what?"

"About all of this! About Penelope, about how the others are practically planning our wedding, about the _date_ I went on with her today?" Horace fretted. Enoch shrugged.

"So what? You're gay aren't you?"

Horace's eyes widened and his cheeks went bright pink.

"Well you don't have to put it so _bluntly_." He scolded.

"Oh I'm sorry, what would you prefer?" Enoch sat up, putting a hand on his heart and announcing dramatically, "Are you, Horace Somnusson, a _homosexual_?"

Horace looked utterly horrified, making frantic motions with his hands.

"Shhh! Are you insane? Hugh and Fiona are just in the other room!"

"Well aren't you?"

Horace hesitated, still looking mortified.

"…Yes."

"Meaning you're completely uninterested in girls and so unable to be attracted to Penelope?"

"Yes."

Enoch snorted.

"In that case I'm terrified. This Penelope girl might just win the heart of my boyfriend!" He mocked, and Horace shoved him.

"Oh shut up." He shook his head, sitting on the bed next to Enoch. "And besides, it isn't only you I'm worried about. What about poor Penelope? This is so cruel for her. She has no idea!"

"Uh, _yeah_. That's what makes this so funny." Enoch scoffed.

"We don't all have the privilege of being heartless like you." Horace chided. "Some of us have to care about people's feelings."

"Sucks to be you." Enoch shrugged, grinning at him.

Horace wasn't sure what it was that made him do it- whether it was the way Enoch had said it, or his stupid grin, or the smear of dirt on his cheek that made him look like an utter dork- but Horace suddenly grabbed Enoch by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. Enoch must have been expecting nothing more than a half-hearted retort, because he made a little sound of surprise and his eyes widened with shock. Horace pulled away after a moment and smirked at him, and was pleased to see that Enoch was blushing furiously.

Enoch stared at him, blinking in surprise, then a smile spread across his face and he tackled Horace in a hug. Horace cried out as they tumbled back onto the bed, Enoch ending up on top of him.

"You're crushing me!" Horace scolded, laughing and attempting to shove Enoch off him. "Do you know how utterly ridiculous-"

Enoch kissed him and Horace promptly shut up. However, only a few seconds passed before they were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door.

Enoch pulled away from him slightly, looking annoyed.

"Seriously? Who the hell-?" He grumbled, but Horace quickly shushed him. He extricated himself from Enoch (or rather, he very unceremoniously shoved Enoch off the bed, earning himself a few disgruntled curses in response), and walked over to the door.

"Who is it?" Horace asked, opening it a crack and blocking the view into the room with his body.

"It's Olive!" Olive cried gleefully, which was an irrelevant introduction because she was immediately up in his face the moment he opened the door, tugging his arm and trying to pull him after her. "We just got back from Devil's Acre! Bronwyn told me to come get you. We can't wait to hear all about your date! Come on Horace, come on come on come on-"

"Hold on, wait just a moment!" Horace said frantically, already being half-dragged into the hall. He managed to work his wrist from her vice-like grip and tried to think of some way to buy himself time. "Give me a minute to brush my hair." He invented.

"Okay." Olive said happily. "But you come downstairs straight after that, alright?"

"Alright, Olive. I'll come down in a moment." He nodded cheerily, shutting the door. The moment her iron-weighted footsteps receded, he groaned and collapsed back onto the bed, lying back on his pillow and throwing an arm over his face.

"Not this nonsense again!" He wailed. Enoch snorted and lay down next to him.

"Once again I say, _sucks to be you._" He mocked, but then Horace felt Enoch's hand find his on the covers and link their fingers together. Horace sighed miserably.

"Well, I suppose I'd better go down there and make small talk about the attractiveness of women."

"Tell them how pretty Penelope's eyes are or something." Enoch suggested. "Girls always like that for some reason."

Horace suddenly paled.

"But- wait, what colour are Penelope's eyes? I haven't noticed! Oh I'll be found out for sure." He said dejectedly.

"You're a disaster, you know that?" Enoch laughed.

**I hope you liked it! See the next chapter for part 2 :)**


	5. Reveal Part 2

**Aaaand here's part 2! I hope you like it!**

_Chapter 4: Reveal part 2_

_Synopsis: The peculiars try to force Horace into getting a girlfriend, but their attempts are halted when the truth comes out._

_Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida_

_Genre/s: Angst/Fluff_

* * *

Horace's next date was in three days time, and he spent every one of those three days trying to cancel it. But despite his best efforts, something always came along to jeopardise his attempt- whether it was a spray of Devil's Acre street-mud all over Penelope's clothes just as he began explaining why he didn't want to date her (he couldn't very well break up with someone who was already crying about her ruined clothes, for Bird's sake), or Jacob cutting Horace off mid-breakup speech to tell Penelope she was welcome use their loop entrance to visit Horace in the present as long as she didn't let herself age forward.

So by the time the date rolled around, Horace had been entirely unsuccessful in breaking up with Penelope.

"I can't do this anymore." He wailed to Enoch the morning of the date. Enoch had been told to get Horace out of bed by the others, as he was now (very unconvincingly) feigning illness as a last resort.

"I won't lead Penelope on like this- it's not fair to her and it's not fair to you." Horace said adamantly.

Enoch shrugged, lying down on his back on the carpet and beginning to torment a squirming homunculus.

"_I_ don't care- I think it's funny." He smirked.

"Well it's not!" Horace snapped.

"Oh come on, it is a bit." Enoch said.

"Enoch…" Horace scolded him dejectedly, and when Enoch saw his face, he released the homunculus and sat up.

"Look, don't get all upset. Just break up with her then."

"I've already tried! It didn't work!" Horace snapped, throwing off his covers and storming over to the window. Some normal at another house down below was reversing their automobile down their driveway, heading to work. Horace envied their simple life.

He turned back to Enoch miserably.

"And besides, I can't just suddenly break Penelope's heart- that's cruel, especially without being able to give her a valid reason."

"Well give her one then." Enoch shrugged from the floor. "Tell her you've gotten bored of her or something. Or-" He poked the homunculus in the chest, watching it tumble backwards, and his face suddenly lit up with a joke. "-Or tell her you've gone off her because her fabric styles aren't complimentary enough- that'd be a laugh."

Horace gave him a withering glare.

"If you ever decide to break up with me one day, please dear _God_ don't do it like that." He begged. Enoch snorted, but Horace had grown serious again.

"The others all love her Enoch. I can't break up with her- they'd hate me."

"They're your _friends_ you idiot." Enoch scoffed, "They're not going to suddenly hate you just cause you've dumped some random girl they barely know."

"Well, fine. They may not hate me, but they'll all be so angry and upset… I don't want to disappoint them."

Enoch was on his feet now.

"Are you hearing yourself?" He spluttered. "You're seriously going to lie to yourself and Penelope- and your friends, by the way- just so you won't disappoint them? Screw _them!_ It's none of their business in the first place."

"I know it's stupid, but I can't help it, Enoch. I'm just…" He sighed, "I'm just scared about what they'll say if I break up with her. What if they yell at me? What if they try to make me take her back? What if-" He suddenly looked terrified. "What if they get suspicious and figure out about us?" He fretted. Enoch shook his head.

"We've been together this long and they've never figured out, right? I'm telling you, you've got nothing to worry about. Sorry to say it, but our friends are _dumb_."

Horace laughed weakly.

"That's mean." He scolded.

"It's true." Enoch shrugged. "Okay look, so you don't want to break up with her directly? Then don't."

"What do you mean?" Horace frowned.

"Well think about it. You're only in this mess because she fancies you, right? So you just have to make it so she can't possibly fancy you anymore." Enoch shrugged.

"What… sabotage myself?"

"Well yeah. You've just got to be so awkward and weird that she dumps you all on her own. Talk over her, say embarrassing things too loud- oh, I should let you wear some of my clothes; she'd _hate_ that."

"_I_ would hate that!" Horace cried, appalled, just as there was a shout from downstairs. If he didn't get ready soon, he'd be late.

"So you'll do it?" Enoch asked. "I mean aside from the clothes."

Horace sighed.

"I guess so- I don't exactly have many other options. Though I can't promise to be any good at acting unattractive." He added primly, dusting off his top hat.

Enoch rolled his eyes.

"Go get ready you idiot." He grinned. "I can teach you the ways as we're walking down."

…

It was afternoon when Horace finally came stumbling in the back door from Devil's Acre, looking completely miserable. Enoch walked into the room just in time to see him collapse onto the couch, shove a cushion over his face and scream into it. Enoch bit back a smirk, sitting on the coffee table opposite him.

"So- I take it the date didn't go so well then?" He grinned.

Horace removed the cushion to give him a despairing look.

"Quite the opposite," He said wretchedly. "It went amazingly."

"But what about our plan? You were supposed to be all awkward and annoying and stuff- we practiced and everything!" Enoch spluttered. He shook his head, looking annoyed at himself. "I _knew_ we should have had you wear some of my clothes."

Horace just sighed dramatically, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm just so _bad_ at acting awkward- I wasn't born to be socially inept. No matter how hard I tried to sabotage myself, every thing I did just turned out perfectly! I can't help it- I'm just naturally charming." He said miserably.

"Mhmm." Enoch looked unconvinced. "Or maybe you're just too prideful to embarrass yourself."

"Oh stop it." Horace sighed, covering his face with his hands. "Don't make me feel worse."

Sitting on the coffee table with Horace lying on the couch in front of him, Enoch felt like one of those therapists you see in films. He rolled his eyes at the thought and stood up, pushing Horace's legs off the couch.

"Shove up, will you?" He muttered. "Let me sit down."

Horace reluctantly sat up and moved over to give him space. Enoch sat facing Horace, who was looking more pitiful by the minute. Enoch rolled his eyes again.

"Look, would you quit your pity party? We just have to think of something else." He shrugged.

"Like what? Nothing's working, and the others are getting more ridiculous by the day. Did you know that Bronwyn has formally invited Penelope to come over and meet Miss Peregrine next week?" He sounded horrified. "They'll have us married off with three children at this rate!"

Enoch snorted and Horace gave him a glare.

"Don't you laugh at me!"

"Oh sod off." Enoch scoffed, shoving a very indignant Horace out of his face. "I'd like the records to show that you're the only one who's getting freaked out by all of this- I think it's a right laugh, or at least funniest bloody thing that's happened since we got here. If it was me, I'd milk it for all it was worth."

"Well, it's _not_ you, is it?" Horace sulked, crossing his arms. "And I doubt you'd think it was so funny if you were the one having to go on all these dates with Penelope."

Enoch went to retort, but then suddenly his eyes widened and a grin crept across his face. Horace frowned in confusion.

"What are you-? _Oh_." He said, realising. "Oh, Enoch that's brilliant!"

"I do try." Enoch grinned.

Horace looked far less miserable now. He was sitting up straighter, planning enthusiastically.

"That's perfect! You can come along and talk about dead things and those disgusting innards you keep around. Or just be cynical and annoying until Penelope gets fed up- you're good at that."

"Hey!"

"Then the date will become so awkward and uncomfortable that it won't be up to me at all! She'll have to break up with me then, and I'll just play the poor innocent victim."

"So, basically that means you want me to play the asshole who crashes your date." Enoch summarised. "Meaning everyone's gonna be pissed off at me and probably think I'm even more heartless than they already do?"

"Er… yes?" Horace said a little guiltily.

Enoch grinned, looking thrilled.

"I'll do it."

…

Two days later, Horace was waiting by the door in his best suit. Enoch sauntered into the room, his hair a mess and blood all over his clothes and hands, smirking at Horace's appalled expression.

"What do you think?" He grinned. Horace looked thoroughly disgusted, wrinkling his nose and practically leaning away from him.

"It's perfect." He said.

They walked through the Panloopticon and into the dirty streets of Devil's Acre, Horace hastily dodging the filthy puddles of water.

"Where are you meeting her again?" Enoch asked, looking bored.

"Cutthroat Alley." Horace said, to Enoch's raised eyebrows. "Surprisingly it's actually one of the nicer parts of Devil's Acre." He explained. "Though I doubt we'll stay there long. Last time Penelope had a permission notice from her ymbryne to use the Panloopticon and we went to a loop in France."

"_France?_ Looks like I've got some competition." Enoch grinned.

"Oh don't bother." Horace sighed. "We spent the whole time in a ridiculously fancy restaurant making small talk. It was incredibly boring."

Enoch nodded seriously, as if storing this information for future.

"No restaurants. No small talk. Noted."

Horace rolled his eyes at him.

They rounded the corner onto Cutthroat Alley, which, as Horace had predicted, was reasonably nice- for Devil's Acre. Meaning it was slightly less dark and filthy, the shopfronts were only half smashed in and the rats seemed a little friendlier.

"Romantic." Enoch joked, looking around.

Horace stepped around a mass of suspicious black sludge in the road.

"A restaurant is looking lovely at this point." He said bitterly, heading towards Penelope's figure under a flickering kerosene street lamp. He turned to Enoch beside him. "Ready to ruin a date?"

"Horace!" Penelope bounded over in a pastel green lace dress, pulling him into a brisk hug. "I'm so glad to see- oh." Her face fell as she noticed Enoch, who stood with his hands in his overall pockets.

Penelope pulled away from Horace, fixing her hair and looking a little embarrassed. She frowned at Enoch as if trying to work out why this filthy, strange boy was smirking at her.

"Oh… you're from Horace's loop aren't you?" She asked, suddenly seeming to recognise him. She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose at his blood-stained clothes in just the way Horace had. Enoch decided they made quite an effective posh-person repellant.

Penelope's face was still in a little frown, and she seemed to be trying in vain to remember his name. "You're er…no no, don't tell me…"

"Enoch." He supplied, holding out a very grimy hand that Penelope recoiled from. "You're standing in horse muck by the way."

Penelope gave a little horrified shriek and stumbled away from the pile of horse manure her dress had been dragging in.

"Oh let's get out of here Horace." She gasped, tugging Horace's sleeve and seemingly no longer in the mood for long romantic greetings.

Horace beamed at Enoch over his shoulder was he was dragged away.

Penelope was in such a hurry to get away from Devil's Acre- and probably Enoch himself- that Enoch had to jog to keep up.

"Hey hey what's the rush? Late for a hair appointment?" Enoch joked as Penelope gave him a very disgruntled look.

"No." She said primly, thankfully deciding to slow down enough for him to catch up. Horace looked relieved too- he'd barely managed to keep a hold of his hat.

Enoch shoved his hands into his pockets again, strolling alongside the two of them as casually as he could while trying to get his breath back.

"Where're you going then?" He asked.

"On a date." Penelope beamed proudly. "With Horace."

Horace forced a smile at her as she laced her fingers with his.

"That's cute." Enoch smirked. "And in Devil's Acre no less?"

He gestured grandly at the street around them- the fetid, soupy slush of the canal, the blackened buildings crumbling with rot and mould, and the gaggles of grimy children picking lice out of each other's hair. There was an almighty roar that made all three of them flinch as a fight broke out and a man was shoved through a shop window.

"The number one most romantic location in Peculiardom, I've heard." Enoch grinned.

Penelope was now looking supremely uncomfortable, glancing at Enoch with her lips pursed and a small frown, as though he was some sort of bothersome, mildly disgusting beggar that she didn't know how to get rid of without being rude.

Enoch kept talking before she could get the chance to try.

"I had my first date here too you know." He lied proudly.

"Oh… did you?" Penelope responded politely, feigning interest. She was glancing at his filthy clothes again like she wasn't sure he could get a date if he tried. Enoch was used to people looking at him like that, so he just smirked and stepped closer to her. Penelope almost shoved Horace into the canal in her haste to get away from him and his blood-spattered clothes. Enoch pretended not to notice, biting back a grin.

"Yeah, I did." He said. "I was real romantic, we went to one of these cafes round here and everything. Only, the girl I was with had these boils all over her- they kept bursting all the time." He grinned. "She had this one _awful_ one on her nose, and then while we were eating, it-"

"Oh don't go on!" Penelope cried, covering her face in horror. Enoch had to hold in a laugh. She'd gone as green as her dress. He was just about to point this out when she took a deep breath and turned to him with a very forced smile. Enoch forced an even bigger one back.

"I'm _sorry_," She said, not sounding very sorry, "but there are just some things that shouldn't be discussed in polite company."

They were now passing the ymbrynes' council building where the peculiars all worked, and Penelope looked very relieved. They stopped outside the entrance and she turned to Enoch with a brisk smile.

"Well it was, er… _lovely_ talking to you Enoch, but I guess this is where we say goodbye." She said tersely, giving him a quick, almost shooing wave. "See you later! Have a good shift!"

Enoch snorted.

"What? I'm not working today."

Penelope's smile wavered.

"…Oh. I'm sorry, then where exactly are you going?"

"Nowhere. I just saw you two and figured I'd give you some company. You look like you need it."

Penelope frowned at him and took Horace's hand again.

"Well we certainly _don't_, thank you. As I said earlier, this is a date, so-"

"Great! Where are we headed?" Enoch beamed, brushing past her to take Horace's other hand.

Horace quickly looked down to hide his smile. He was shaking, though whether it was with laughter at Penelope's expression or disgust at Enoch's blood-stained hand, Enoch wasn't sure. Probably both.

Penelope's cheeks had flushed an indignant pink and she was looking thoroughly overwhelmed.

"We are _trying_ to go to the Panloopticon!" She said, sounding flustered and starting to hurry away again. "Horace and I are going to a loop made during the first ever Milan fashion week-"

Horace's eyes widened and he stopped walking. He couldn't help himself.

"_Really?_" He gasped, releasing Enoch's hand. "Penelope that's fantastic! I didn't even know one existed!"

Penelope forgot all about Enoch for a moment too and turned to Horace excitedly.

"Oh yes, it was made in 1958, it's a famous tourist loop. Hundreds of influential peculiars visit every year-"

"That sounds fun- can I come?" Enoch beamed, throwing his arm across both of their shoulders before Horace could get any more excited. He was practically hyperventilating already.

Penelope gasped and shoved Enoch's arm off her, looking disgruntled as she frantically brushed invisible dirt off her dress.

"Absolutely not." She snapped.

"Aww, please? I love that Fashion Month thingo. Seriously, clothes are my passion and all that." Enoch said.

Penelope looked unimpressed, glancing once again at his blood-stained, shapeless outfit with narrowed eyes.

"Please? It'll be like I'm not even there, promise." Enoch begged, barely hiding his grin.

"You might has well let him." Horace sighed, feigning annoyance, "He won't give up otherwise."

Penelope opened and closed her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed.

"…Oh alright." She sighed after a while. "But this is a date, so please have a little respec-"

Enoch splashed through a puddle and left her shrieking at him.

…

By the time they finally reached the Panloopticon, Penelope was quietly fuming, and Enoch was having the time of his life. Penelope got annoyed at all the same things Horace did, so it was ridiculously easy to push her buttons. Horace himself had spent the entire trip trying desperately to keep a straight face.

They reached the front of the line and Penelope handed over her permission slip to a man in a customs uniform, who stood in front of a loop door marked, 'Milan, October 5th 1958.'

The man squinted at the permission slip.

"It's says here permission for two." He said, looking up at Horace and Penelope, who were joined by the hand, then glancing at Enoch, who stood a little apart from them and looked very out of place.

"Yes, well, I thought it would only be two people as well, to be honest." Penelope said with a disapproving look at Enoch. "But we seem to have an unexpected plus one."

"I'm sure you'll allow it though, won't you?" Horace added quickly. "We _are_ Miss Peregrine's wards after all…"

The man frowned.

"Who?"

Horace sighed, pointing between Enoch and himself.

"I mean, we're both friends of Jacob Portman."

The man's eyes widened and he suddenly looked animated.

"Well why didn't you say so?" He said, happily filing the permission slip and handing them all tickets. "I mean, wow- Jacob Portman! Could you get me an autograph by any chance…?"

"No." Enoch snapped, snatching the ticket from his hand. He suddenly looked rather bitter.

They headed for the door and tried to cross into the loop but were stopped once again because of Enoch- his clothes had been deemed 'inappropriate for such a high-class event' and was made to change into a suit provided by the costume department in order to blend in more.

By this point Penelope was looking visibly frustrated, but it was nothing compared to Enoch, who emerged from the costuming area in a suit three sizes too big and with a disgusted expression on his face.

"The things I bloody do for you." He muttered to Horace as they were finally allowed to approach the loop, though he had the hint of a grin on his face.

"I think you look very sophisticated." Horace laughed, before he was dragged away from Enoch by a very annoyed Penelope.

They reemerged onto a lavishly paved street in Milan. People around them bustled in suits and conservative dresses, and the street was lined with large stone buildings with ornate archways and overhanging balconies.

Horace couldn't help but look around in awe, and Penelope beamed at him, seemingly deciding to ignore Enoch entirely. Enoch sauntered along beside them, whistling something annoying and tuneless.

Penelope continued to gush to Horace as they headed for the outer-bounds of the loop where the Fashion Week was being held. She was getting a little close for Enoch's liking, clutching Horace's arm and leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. When Horace met Enoch's eyes and gave him a panicked look, Enoch strolled over and wedged himself between them.

"You two gonna kiss or what?" He teased. Horace looked horrified, his eyes widening.

_What are you doing?_ He mouthed frantically.

But luckily for Enoch, his comments had the desired effect of making Penelope look like she never wanted to kiss anyone ever again. She flushed a dark pink and quickly moved away from Horace.

"Well excuse _me!_" She scolded, frowning at Enoch.

"You're excused." Enoch replied.

The rest of the trip passed by much the same, and by the time they actually reached the Fashion Week building, Penelope had Horace's hand in a death grip, glaring daggers at Enoch.

The main foyer had been turned into a kind of museum display, and outfits from famous designers whose work would be on the runway were displayed behind glass. The room was filled with distinguished people waiting for the runway show to start. They milled around, observing the suits and gowns, murmuring to themselves and taking notes, or simply making small talk over champagne.

"Look at this Horace!" Penelope gushed, tugging his hand and pulling him away from Enoch towards a display of a billowing green bustle dress.

Horace couldn't help his excitement as he looked around at all these dignified people and their extravagant clothing. He and Penelope were offered champagne by a waiter who called him 'signor' and her 'signorina', but the two of them had to decline (Miss Peregrine would kill him!), though Horace had to admit he enjoyed the fact that he looked sophisticated enough to be offered champagne. Penelope led him around to all the different displays, with Enoch trailing behind and doing his best to disrupt them, but the crowds made it hard for him to even keep sight of them, let alone annoy Penelope.

Horace knew he was enjoying this more than he should as he excitedly dragged Penelope to a fantastic peacock-colour suit, and he felt a little bad for Enoch. But Penelope hadn't done anything out of the realm of friends yet, and he was actually having fun when she was like this- treating him like they were equals and companions, rather than going into her gushy-giggly flirting nonsense that made Horace want to crawl into a hole and die.

Unfortunately for Horace, the latter happened sooner rather than later. He had barely finished asking her if she'd ever tried changing fabric to a peacock-colour like this, when Penelope spotted a gap in the crowd and a sudden determined light flickered into her eyes.

"Come on." She said in a low voice, grabbing Horace's hand and glancing disdainfully at Enoch, "Let's lose him."

"Wha-?"

But it was too late. She'd dragged Horace after her, marching through the gap, and people closed in behind them. Horace looked over his shoulder nervously, but Enoch was lost in the crowd.

"Shouldn't we wait for Enoch…?" He trailed off nervously, but Penelope shook her head.

"That's sweet of you Horace, but I'm done being polite. People like that wouldn't know manners if they were served to them on a silver platter. I mean, who tags along uninvited on a _date_ for goodness sake?"

She shook her head, then her expression softened and she led Horace to a darkened corner under the stairs, away from the rest of the crowds.

"I've been trying to get you alone and away from him this whole date." Penelope admitted. "And while a corner under the stairs isn't exactly the most romantic place, I just thought I'd best get this out in the open before we go into the show."

_Oh Bird oh Bird oh Bird._

Penelope was standing far too close to him, and Horace had made the very stupid mistake of allowing her to block his way out. She smiled at him, blushing a little, her eyes searching his face. Horace squirmed as she took his hand.

"I-I wanted to tell you that I've had so much fun on these dates with you Horace-"

Horace winced.

"I have too, but I don't think-"

"I think you're amazing. You're so kind and sweet, and you actually care about what you wear, unlike all those disgusting other boys in Devil's Acre…"

Horace shrunk from her, feeling sick. He glanced past her in panic. Where was Enoch? If there was ever a time he needed someone to jump in and interrupt, it was now.

Penelope was still looking at him adoringly, standing practically chest-to-chest with him she was so close, while Horace leaned as far from her as he could, panicking out of his mind.

How could he make her stop without being rude? His mind was a blur of possible variations, but he couldn't think of any where she didn't end up hurt or heartbroken.

"What I'm trying to say," Penelope said quietly, "…Is I think I love you."

Horace's stomach turned to stone with dread.

_Oh no, oh dear, oh no-_

And before he could react, Penelope suddenly lunged forward and kissed him on the lips.

Horace's whole body went rigid and he shoved her off in panic.

"Wha- what was- what are you- _what?_" He spluttered, horrified. "What are you _doing?_"

Penelope was staring at him in shock, tearful.

"But… but I don't understand!" She cried, hurt. "I… you said…"

Before she could continue there was a horrible sound of shattering glass, followed by screams as people stampeded to get out of the way. Horace heard a voice he recognised yelling angrily.

"Enoch!" He cried, pushing past a stunned Penelope and shoving his way through the crowd. Penelope followed behind him, looking confused.

One of the glass-surrounded displays had been smashed, a metal pipe lying in the mountains of shards. Horace pushed through the last of the onlookers into a cleared area at the source of the commotion.

"Hey! Get off me you bastard!" Enoch cried.

He was covered in tiny nicks and scratches from the glass, and was grappling with a man in uniform who appeared to be some kind of guard.

"Enoch!" Horace cried. "What's going on?"

The guard and Enoch stopped fighting and turned to Horace, as did all the other guests, who had formed a disdainful circle around them.

"You're with him?" The guard said to Horace and Penelope, and gestured to Enoch, who he now had by the elbow. Horace sighed and nodded. The guard looked furious. "That's it! All three of you out!" He yelled, to applause from the crowd. He was clearly peculiar because he growled a little quieter to them, "Go back to your own loops, you delinquents. Bloody tourists ruining it for everyone else…"

They were very unceremoniously thrown out of the loop, and Enoch was made to give back his suit.

"You smashed the display?!" Horace cried to Enoch the second they were back in Devil's Acre, though he couldn't quite keep the incredulous grin off his face. Enoch shrugged, grinning back.

"Am I great or what? I say that was genius on my part."

"But _why?_"

"I was just going along with our plan." Enoch shrugged, lowering his voice so Penelope couldn't hear. She was marching furiously a little ahead of them. "And once little miss sunshine over there kidnapped you and I couldn't find you two, I figured I knew what she was doing, so I decided a distraction was the next best thing."

"I'm not sure that was a distraction so much as a disaster." Horace frowned.

"Hey, it worked though didn't it?"

"Maybe if you'd been thirty seconds earlier." Horace muttered bitterly.

"Alright that's it!" Penelope cried, coming to a dead stop in the street and spinning around to face them. Horace paled, realising she'd heard their whole conversation. "Could one of you _please_ explain to me what on earth is going on? Preferably you, Horace, since you're the one who thinks it's okay to play my emotions for a joke!"

Horace shook his head quickly, horrified.

"N-no Penelope, no I never-"

"What's going on?" A voice sounded from behind them.

They all turned. Jacob and Emma had chosen that moment to walk by on their way home from their shifts. Emma was frowning at him.

Horace's face drained of colour, Penelope's flushed red with outrage, and Enoch couldn't contain himself anymore. He burst into wheezing laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That's got to be about the worst luck I've ever seen." He snorted to an annoyed Horace. "You poor bastard!"

Horace could have murdered him right then and there if he hadn't been in the much more immediate danger of Penelope and Emma doing the same to him.

Penelope was fuming.

"Well it _appears_ that we were just kicked out of a loop because Horace decided to let _him_ come along to ruin our date!" She pointed at Enoch, who was now howling with laughter.

Enoch's laughter died when he saw the furious expressions on his friend's faces.

"I bet you think you're funny." Emma scolded angrily.

"That's low, even for you." Jacob said, shooting him a frustrated look.

"Wait what? Don't blame me!" Enoch spluttered, "Horace was the one who wanted to break up with-"

Horace jabbed him in the side, his eyes wide and shaking his head fearfully. Enoch cleared his throat, remembering their plan.

"Uhh… I mean yeah. Yeah you're right. It was all me." He lied. "It was a joke."

"I don't believe this." Penelope snapped. She was furious, but not at Enoch. She was glaring straight at a miserable Horace. "What kind of sick person does that to someone? Is this just a joke to you too? Do my feelings really matter so little?"

Horace shook his head, feeling awful. This was the opposite of what he'd wanted.

"No, of course not." He assured her. "Penelope please listen-"

But Penelope was beyond listening.

"Who do you think you are?" She cried angrily.

"Hey, you back off." Enoch growled, stepping in front of Horace. "He didn't do a thing to you."

"Yes he did! Aside from all this mess, he also spent the day being perfectly romantic and loving, then quite rudely decided to shove me away when I tried to kiss him!"

"Well have you thought that's because maybe he doesn't actually _want_ to kiss you?" Enoch snapped.

"You know what? I'm starting to think that's the case." Penelope said, her eyes shining with hurt as she turned to Horace, "You've been sabotaging this from the very beginning. Always making excuses, always flinching away from me, always talking about _him_." She glared at Enoch, then looked back at Horace. "You could have just told me in the first place if you didn't want to be with me!"

Horace hung his head miserably as Enoch scoffed and Penelope suddenly wheeled on him.

"And you! You're no better! You've done nothing but be crude and awful since I got here!"

"Oh I'm sorry _madam_, did I offend you?" Enoch mocked.

"Hey cut it out Enoch." Jacob warned. "Don't make this worse."

"Honestly, I don't know why Horace keeps you around." Penelope snapped. "You're nothing but a bad influence on him!"

"You barely even _know_ him!" Enoch exploded, genuinely angry now. Horace finally found his voice.

"Stop it Enoch!" He pleaded.

"No! I'm not just gonna stand here and let her-"

"Enoch!" Emma scolded. "For the love of God just _shut up!_"

Enoch looked ready to throw hands with someone and he didn't care who. He opened his mouth to retort, but Jacob spoke first.

"Uhh… guys?" He ventured. They looked up.

Penelope had run off in tears.

"This is a nightmare." Horace said miserably with his head in his hands.

"Don't you worry about it Horace." Emma reassured him determinedly, with the look of a girl who had been in Penelope's shoes and wasn't about to let history repeat itself. She clearly had decided that Enoch was behind all of this, because she added, "We're not going to let you or Penelope end up with a broken heart because of Enoch's selfish behaviour."

"Yeah, you head back to the house Horace, we'll go talk to Penelope." Jacob insisted, then shook his head frustratedly at Enoch as he passed.

"Seriously dude. I will never understand you." He sighed, following Emma down the street where Penelope had run off.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Enoch turned to Horace. He still looked a little annoyed at the others, but most of his anger had drained away now. He gave Horace a slightly sheepish grin.

"Well... it wasn't exactly conventional, but I'd call that a success." He shrugged proudly.

But then he saw Horace's tearful expression and his grin faded.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frowning in confusion at this sudden reaction. "That's what you wanted right? I annoyed her, she doesn't want to be with you any more, and the others just blame me and not you."

Horace shook his head as they made their way back towards the Panloopticon.

"She was _crying_ Enoch." He said guiltily, "I didn't want to make her cry. I just... I thought she would get so fed up with it all that she would dump me, or maybe at the _most_ be a little angry… but not like this! I never meant for any of this. Oh Bird, what was I thinking? I've just made it worse!"

Enoch was still looking at him with faint confusion. In the end he just shook his head.

"You worry too much." He shrugged, as they stepped through their pocket loop and into the Portman's backyard.

**See the next chapter for part 3!**


	6. Reveal Part 3

**Part 3 of 3 :)**

_Chapter 4: Reveal part 3_

_Synopsis: The peculiars try to force Horace into getting a girlfriend, but their attempts are halted when the truth comes out._

_Set: Post-L.O.S, Florida_

_Genre/s: Angst/Fluff_

* * *

Unfortunately for them, it was less than ten minutes later when Emma and Jacob returned from Devil's Acre. Penelope had disappeared and they hadn't been able to find her, but they had bumped into the rest of the peculiars on their way back and Emma had told them exactly what happened.

"Oh Enoch, that's just terrible! How could you do such a thing?" Bronwyn scolded, distraught, the second she walked through the door. She took Horace by the shoulders, so frantic that he thought she might shake him. "You must go after her and apologise, Horace- you simply must!"

"I- I will, but I don't think-" Horace began, but he was cut off by Hugh.

"If anyone's apologising, it should be Enoch." He insisted, glaring at him. "He's the one being a selfish git."

Enoch glared right back.

"It's not my fault no one else here has a sense of humour."

"That wasn't a joke mate." Hugh shook his head, looking annoyed. "That was just you being jealous 'cause you know no one will fancy you like that."

The others nodded in agreement, muttering amongst themselves and shooting Enoch scathing looks.

Before Enoch could retaliate, Olive had bounded over and was clinging to Horace's sleeve in panic.

"You can't let this be the end for you and Penelope!" Olive cried.

"We'll all be just so sad!" Claire agreed, taking his other arm.

Horace winced,

"But-"

"No buts mate." Hugh said to his left, and Fiona nodded reassuringly as Hugh clapped a hand on Horace's shoulder. "Just go find her now and ask for another chance."

"And we can all come if you need support, Horace!" Bronwyn insisted, rushing over to him from his right and shepherding him towards the back door. "Come on-"

"Wait- wait hold on-" Horace said, panicked, but the others were all talking at once, trying to drag him to the door, and none of them were listening to him.

"Just apologise upfront." Emma insisted.

"But-"

"We'll back you up and explain it was all Enoch." Jacob said.

"No, that's not-"

"And then you'll get back together." Olive beamed.

"Listen-"

"And it'll be great!" Claire finished.

Enoch had been watching to the side, trying his best to stay out of it, but now he couldn't take it anymore. He scowled as the others continued babbling obliviously to a terrified Horace, practically dragging him out the room.

"It'll be fine Horace, promise-" Bronwyn reassured him.

"But I don't want to get back with her-" Horace fretted.

"Of course you do silly, don't be such a scaredy cat!" Olive giggled.

"No, I don't, just- listen to me- I don't- stop it! Stop-!"

"Leave him alone!" Enoch yelled. The peculiars froze, blinking at him in shock. Enoch was fuming. "Would you all just shut up with this rubbish!" He cried. "I thought it was funny at first, but now it's just _sad_. Are your lives that boring that you all have to pressure and nag and get in his business all day long? Can none of you see how stressed you're making him? Look how bloody upset he is!"

They all turned to Horace, suddenly seeming to realise that he was shaking. They quickly let him go, murmuring apologies.

"I'm sorry Horace, we weren't trying to upset you…" Bronwyn said guiltily.

Emma however, was still angry, turning to Enoch.

"That's because of _you_, you dolt!" She scolded. "You're the one who's caused all this mess by upsetting Penelope. Despite the fact that you seem to think this is all about you- it's not! This is about Horace and what he wants."

"What _he_ wants?" Enoch spluttered, his anger growing. "This isn't what he wants, it's what you all _think_ he wants. You realised Penelope had feelings for him and just decided to organise some stupid confession without even asking him whether he had those feelings back!"

There was silence. Enoch knew he was ranting, but he didn't care. The sight of Horace's tearful, panicked face made Enoch feel strangely defensive. The others had no right to make Horace feel like that.

"He's been miserable because of all of you." Enoch snapped. "You've turned this whole thing into some kind of bloody circus act! He doesn't want to be with her, it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out! But instead he's gone along with it and had to lie because he was so scared of what you'd all say. You lot! As if you have _any_ right to control who he wants to be with. And now that poor girl's had her heart broken and Horace will have to take the blame for it because you all boxed him into a situation he felt like he couldn't get out of!"

The anger finally drained from him. Enoch was left standing there, suddenly embarrassed, as the peculiars gawped at him, all looking equally shocked and guilty.

Emma opened her mouth but no sound came out. Olive's bottom lip was trembling, and Hugh wouldn't meet his eyes.

Horace, however, was staring at Enoch in amazement, his eyes shining. A smile spread across his face, and before anyone knew what was happening, he marched over to Enoch, grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss.

There were a few gasps of surprise from the others. They watched, shocked, as Horace pulled away from a very flustered Enoch, looking him in the eyes.

"Thank you." Horace mumbled quietly, "That was incredibly sweet of you."

Enoch just stared at him, blushing furiously, and Horace smiled for a moment, before he suddenly remembered the others were all still watching him. His stomach filled with dread as he turned to face them, finding Enoch's hand and linking their fingers together. Horace swallowed hard, putting on what he hoped was a confident expression. No going back now.

There was dead silence. No one seemed to be able to move. The others were looking between Horace and Enoch with wide eyes, clearly stunned.

Despite his confident expression, Horace felt like his insides had turned to jelly. His knees threatened to give out, and it was all he could do not to turn and run. Enoch looked just as scared as he felt, squeezing Horace's hand painfully hard.

"Er… u-um." Horace cursed his nerves, taking a deep breath and clinging to Enoch's hand for dear life. He started again. "Enoch and I have something to tell you all." He said quietly.

Silence.

"It was me who wanted to break up with Penelope. I asked Enoch to help me because… because I never wanted a relationship with her. She was my friend. I don't fancy her."

More silence.

"I couldn't be with her because, er… because…" Horace took a deep breath and said very quickly, "Because Enoch and I are together."

Enoch's face was ashen with fear as he glared down at his feet, and he was squeezing Horace's hand so hard his knuckles were white. Horace felt as though he might be sick, and he wished someone would say something. Anything. Even if it was to hurl abuse at them, anything would be better than standing in this tense, painful silence.

Then suddenly Enoch cried out and stumbled as though he'd been shoved, his hand wrenched from Horace's. Horace's heart jumped in terror.

_Oh Bird. Oh no._

He was right, his friends would never accept them. This was it. They were furious. They were about to throw he and Enoch out-

Then he heard Enoch laughing.

"Get _off_ Millard." He grumbled, swatting at his head like his hair was being ruffled. Horace realised he'd been tackled into a hug.

"Well I'm sorry, but bloody well congratulations to you!" Millard said cheerily, releasing Enoch to shake a stunned Horace's hand- he'd forgotten Millard was even there. "It only took the two of you, what…? Twenty five years to finally admit it?"

Horace was flabbergasted.

"You _knew?_" He spluttered.

"I'm invisible." Millard replied, as if that explained everything. "Plus it was a little obvious- I think I knew before either of you two even knew."

And just like that the tension was broken. Enoch's face had gone bright red with embarrassment, and Horace found himself laughing at him as their friends flooded towards them, all talking at once.

"Oh this is just so sweet!" Bronwyn gushed, beaming. "I had no idea! Why didn't you two _say_ anything!"

She wrapped Horace in a bone-crushing bear hug that nearly lifted his feet off the ground.

"We never would have gone on about that nonsense with Penelope if we'd known!"

Jacob was grinning, and he walked over to clap Horace on the shoulder the second he was released by Bronwyn.

"Congratulations!" He said happily. "I just want you to know that I'm totally fine with you guys being together."

"…Really?" Horace asked hopefully, "You don't think it's… wrong?"

Jacob shook his head, smiling at him.

"Of course not! I'm really happy for you man- you and Enoch. Good for you two."

Horace smiled a little numbly. The feeling was slowly returning to his legs now that the sky hadn't come crashing down, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Can I just ask you something though?" Jacob said. "I'm all for you guys being together; I think it's great and I can totally see why Enoch would want to date you. But-" He shook his head in disbelief. "Really Horace? _Enoch?_ You could have had any guy in Devil's Acre and you chose _Enoch?_" He scoffed, and Horace laughed at Enoch's furious expression.

"Hey!" Enoch complained, but the rest of his retort was lost as Bronwyn crushed the air out of his lungs in a fierce hug.

Unfortunately, the other peculiars were not as excited.

Claire, always one to obey authority, marched over to them with her little chest puffed out. Her cheeks had gone bright pink.

"You shouldn't be with a boy Horace." She scolded. "It's against the law."

Olive came up beside her and nodded adamantly, though she looked more worried than anything.

"Please Horace, please Enoch, you'll get in such trouble! What if the police find out? They'll take you both away!" She fretted. "I don't want you to be criminals!"

Horace glanced at Enoch, who looked like he couldn't decide whether to yell at them or burst out laughing. But before they could say anything, Bronwyn was there in a flash, putting her arms around the girls' shoulders.

"Now don't you worry little Magpie! Remember what Jacob was telling us when we saw that girl with two mums? It's not illegal in modern times to be a homosexual. They even have a flag now, remember? The one with all the colours."

"…Oh yes…that flag _was_ pretty..." Olive said, thinking about it. She looked much less worried now. "I suppose it's alright if it's not against the law…"

"Exactly." Bronwyn said with a smile, then looked straight at Horace and Enoch with reassurance in her eyes. "Because there is _nothing_ wrong with a boy loving another boy."

Enoch flushed a shade darker and glared at his feet again, embarrassed, but Horace beamed at Bronwyn.

Emma, on the other hand, still looked furious, and was standing off to the side with her arms folded. She marched over to them, her lips pursed.

"You should have just said something." She scolded icily, her hands sparking. "Either of you. It would have saved poor Penelope a lot of confusion and heartbreak. Lying to her- and us- like that was a terrible thing, whatever the reason. I hope you apologise to her Horace, and tell her the truth."

Horace nodded, his guilt sinking back in.

"I will." He said quietly.

Emma nodded too, seemingly satisfied that she'd said what she needed to say. She turned to go, then saw the other peculiar's faces and hesitated, clearing her throat.

"Look… to be honest, I don't really understand where all of _this_-" She gestured between the two of them. "-is coming from, or why you can't just be with a nice girl like Penelope, Horace. Instead of Enoch of all people-"

"I'm right here." Enoch muttered, annoyed.

Emma ignored him. Then she extinguished the flames in her palms and her expression softened.

"But I care about both of you." She said, "And if this is what makes you happy then…" She trailed off, shrugging, "Well, I guess one good thing is you can talk about boys with us now, Horace."

"Hey, what about me?" Enoch said indignantly.

"You don't count." Emma said, and Horace was relieved to see she had the beginnings of a smile on her face.

Now that that tension was over, Horace breathed a sigh of relief. The others surrounded them again, wanting to know everything.

"How long has this been going on?" Jacob asked.

"Oh… not long…" Horace frowned, thinking about it. "It would only be about, what? Seven years?"

Enoch nodded, adding up in his head. Jacob spluttered, staring at them.

"Seven _years?_"

"Aww… they're still in their honeymoon faze." Bronwyn cooed.

"Young love, how sweet." Millard teased, and Enoch punched the air where his voice had come from.

"So… who made the first move then?" Bronwyn asked, nudging Horace. "How did you two get together?"

Enoch looked thoroughly mortified by this point.

"I dunno. It just kinda happened I guess." He muttered. Horace nodded.

"I mean, I _had_ fancied Enoch for decades before he even noticed my existence." Horace admitted, blushing a little. Enoch's head darted up.

"_What?_" He said. "I didn't know that."

The others were smirking at them now.

"Really? Didn't you suspect anything all those times I was flirting with you?"

"That was flirting?" Enoch looked bewildered. "It just sounded like talking."

"Well I had to be subtle!" Horace said defensively.

Olive pushed her way through the crowd and bounded over to them.

"Do you think you two will get married one day?" She gushed, tugging at Horace and Enoch's sleeves excitedly.

Enoch made a choking sound and the two of them went bright red. Horace laughed sheepishly.

"Well I… I don't know Olive." He stammered. "I mean, that's a rather big decision, and obviously a while in the future…"

Olive beamed.

"But you will though won't you? Oh, can I be your flower girl, oh can I please?"

Horace opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say.

"…Enoch?" He ventured desperately, trying to get Olive's attention away from himself. "What do you think?"

Enoch gave him an unimpressed look as the others sniggered. He didn't look too pleased about the baton being passed to him.

"Uhh…" He started, but his response was cut off by an annoyed voice.

"Oh for Bird's sake." Hugh snapped. They all looked up, surprised.

Horace had completely forgotten about Hugh, who stood away from them with bees swarming angrily around his head. His ears had gone quite pink and he had a disgusted look on his face.

Horace's heart sank.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Enoch glared at him.

"You know exactly what it means." Hugh said darkly. Fiona stood beside him and she was tugging at his arm worriedly, trying to get him to stop.

"No. I don't." Enoch said. "So if you've got a problem why don't you just say it?"

"Fine, I've got a problem. I've got a problem with you two acting like this is normal, when it's not. It's wrong and you know it." He said.

Enoch was scowling, and took an aggressive step towards Hugh, but the others were faster. They stepped in between the two of them, and Jacob held his hands up for peace. He turned to Hugh, trying to placate him.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in, especially for someone from the forties, but-"

"Don't lecture me, Jacob." Hugh snapped.

"Hey, hold on-" Jacob started, but before he could finish, Hugh had turned and marched out of the room.

"Oh dear…" Horace said quietly, feeling sick all over again. Bronwyn, who had stepped in front of him like she'd intended to personally shield him with her body, took him by the shoulders.

"Don't you worry about him." She said firmly. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Yeah, don't take it to heart." Jacob insisted, looking at Enoch too. The others nodded.

"He'll come round eventually." Millard reassured them both.

There was the faint sound of someone clearing their throat, and Enoch and Horace looked up to see Fiona still standing in front of them. She stepped closer, holding out her two upturned palms and they watched as she grew a pale pink dog rose in each. She reached out and tucked them behind Horace and Enoch's ears, giving them a warm smile- a silent message of support- before hurrying after Hugh.

...

The sun was bleeding the sky to a pale pink and the peculiars set about making dinner before Miss Peregrine came home. Normally it would be up to those few who were rostered onto dinner-prep that night to make everything and get ready, but everyone seemed to be in such a good mood that they all crammed into the Portmans' kitchen to help out. Enoch and Horace were meant to be rostered on for table setting, but the others told them that it was nonsense after the stress of the day and they were relieved of all duties, with Bronwyn practically swatting Horace's hands away as he went to grab some plates.

"This is great." Enoch grinned to Horace. "We should come out to people more often."

Horace rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face at the sight of his friends, who were chatting merrily while they helped cut up ingredients and set out dishes. They would occasionally call out to him desperately for help when they messed up some part of the recipe, or when they couldn't work the electric stove (Jacob had to step in for that one, since even Horace the master chef was stumped), but other than that he and Enoch were left as happy bystanders.

After a while, Horace grabbed Enoch's hand beside him, and he quietly pulled Enoch out of the kitchen away from the others. They padded across the carpet into the darkened living room, which was lit only by a swathe of warm light streaking in from the kitchen. Horace could only just see Enoch's face in the dark. It was the first time they'd been alone all afternoon, and while Horace appreciated his friends' enthusiasm and support, it was nice to be able to breathe for one second without all their excited chatter and watchful eyes.

Before Horace could say a word, Enoch had wrapped him in a hug, burying his face in Horace's shoulder. It was a rare but welcome show of affection, since Enoch didn't normally feel comfortable initiating hugs, and Horace smiled as he hugged him back. Horace's mind had been a buzz of thoughts- of Penelope, of Hugh, of the rest of his friends, of Miss Peregrine- but now they faded away with the last of his worry. He could feel his racing heart slow down a little as he relaxed against Enoch and closed his eyes, soaking up his warmth.

They stayed that way for a while, just holding each other in the dark, Horace listening to the clink of plates and the sounds of his friends' happy chatter that wafted in every now and then from the kitchen. He heard Bronwyn's booming laugh and Millard reading out ingredients, and he found himself smiling as he hugged Enoch tighter.

Horace probably could have stayed hugging Enoch for hours, but they were suddenly interrupted by Olive bounding into the room.

"There you are!" She exclaimed. Horace and Enoch leaped apart out of habit as she rushed over to them. "The Bird's back!" She cried, tugging their arms. "Come on, come have dinner!"

...

The peculiars had promised not to tell Miss Peregrine about Horace and Enoch- the two of them were still rattled by Hugh's response, and couldn't face all that stress again with the Bird.

Horace had been a little worried about his friends' secret-keeping abilities, but they managed to keep true to their promise. Well, mostly. It was not without struggle- they all kept smirking at the two of them sitting side by side, Millard nearly accidentally let it slip trying to correct Miss Peregrine when she asked Horace about his date with Penelope, and Claire was practically bursting to tell the headmistress, with Bronwyn having to keep distracting the little girl to stop her tattling.

Horace was particularly grateful of Hugh, who, despite sitting sullenly opposite them, made no effort to out them to the Bird. He didn't look angry anymore, just a little uncomfortable, and Horace hoped that was a sign of improvement.

…

The next day, Horace mustered up his courage and decided he would find Penelope and apologise. Some of his friends offered to go with him for support and he agreed, as long as they promised to give him space when he went to talk to her, and didn't try "any of that nonsense like yesterday".

Horace and Enoch were about to head out the back door towards the Panloopticon entrance, when Hugh suddenly came hurrying over to them.

"Horace! Enoch! Hold on a second."

He'd avoided them ever since they'd come out, so when he headed straight for them, Horace's eyes darted up warily and he saw Enoch tense. But thankfully, Hugh didn't seem to be angry anymore- he looked more guilty and nervous than anything.

"Er… hullo." He said, rubbing his neck. A bee crawled out of his mouth and buzzed around his head.

Enoch just folded his arms and glared at him, refusing to respond, but Horace decided to stay civil.

"Hello…" He said cautiously.

Hugh cleared his throat, scuffing his shoe on the ground, a fuzzy striped sock poking out from under his trouser hem. He looked incredibly guilty.

"I just wanted to, er, you know, come here and apologise. For what I said to you two. My behaviour yesterday, I… I'm just so ashamed."

Horace blinked in surprise- an apology was not what he'd been expecting, though it was certainly a pleasant surprise. Hugh continued, his ears growing steadily pinker.

"I shouldn't have said all rubbish to you two, that was wrong of me. It's just… that way of thinking- that's the way I was raised, my whole family was like that. It's disgusting and pigheaded, I know, but it's hard to let go of it when you've heard it so often as a kid."

Horace had never seen him look so unsure of himself, except perhaps when Fiona went missing. It was a little unnerving. Horace glanced at Enoch as Hugh continued hurriedly.

"And when you two told everyone, it was just such a shock, it was so sudden… I mean- blimey!" He shook his head in disbelief. "I just never would have thought… the two of you… well I guess I didn't know how to respond. I just sort of panicked. I reacted badly, and that's on me."

Horace opened his mouth to respond and Hugh cut him off, rushing to keep explaining himself.

"But I've had some time to think about it, and about how the Bird took us all in no matter who we were or how unusual our peculiarities were. And I just thought, I'd never say someone's peculiarity was wrong or disgusting- why should I be able to say that about the two of you and who you love? I mean, you two are my friends, you're like brothers to me and I-" He sighed and screwed up his face, the words clearly not coming out right.

"What I'm trying to say is, I reckon a big part of being peculiar is accepting people for being different, in whatever way that may be, and if you can accept me for having bees living in my stomach, or Fee for preferring plants over people, or Emma for occasionally setting things on fire, then I damn well can accept you two for loving each other. It's hardly the strangest thing I've come across since working in Devil's Acre."

There was silence for a moment and Hugh stared down at his feet, ashamed.

"So, I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I really am." He met their eyes earnestly, and Horace noticed that his were tearing up a little. The bee was buzzing around his head in agitated circles as he thrust out his hand to shake. "I hope you can forgive me, I'll understand if you can't…"

Horace walked to him and shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you, Hugh." He said quietly. "I forgive you."

Enoch, however, was still glaring at him sullenly, but when Horace nudged him he sighed.

"Oh alright, I forgive you. But you're still an ass."

Hugh's face broke into a relieved smile and he laughed.

"I deserve that." He admitted.

…

Their interaction with Hugh had the benefit of shaking off a little of Horace's fear as he hurried down the grass to where his friends were waiting. He felt more confident now going to talk to Penelope, especially since he had a lot of his friends, and Enoch, by his side. They headed through Devil's Acre towards the ymbryne's building, with Horace hoping to catch Penelope before she went to her shift. Enoch walked next to him, trying to keep his expression nonchalant, but he looked a little worried on Horace's behalf.

"What're you gonna tell her?" He said in a low voice so the others couldn't hear. Emma had been pushing for Horace to come clean about his reason for breaking up with her, but Horace had been debating that- he wasn't sure if he could face a reaction like Hugh's from Penelope. Now he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"The truth." He decided, hoping his voice wasn't shaking.

"Well, good luck." Enoch shrugged, pointing further along the street to where Penelope was marching towards the entrance of the building. She still looked angry.

The rest of Horace's friends wished him luck too, giving him words of encouragement as he hurried after Penelope, catching her just before she walked through the double-doors.

"Do you think she'll even listen?" Millard asked as the peculiars watched from afar.

"Oh I hope she does. It'll be terrible if she's still upset at him." Bronwyn fretted. "I just feel awful about this whole mess."

"Did he decide what he was going to tell her?" Emma cut in bluntly, as they watched Horace nervously talking to a very unimpressed Penelope.

"He said he'd tell her the truth." Enoch muttered, not taking his eyes off Horace, who was still explaining, but looked terrified. If that stupid girl said anything to hurt him-

"Well good." Emma shrugged. "He couldn't very well lie and make up some other reason for breaking her heart. That's just more cruel."

Enoch snorted.

"Please, she'll be fine. It's Horace I'm worried about."

"Aww…" Bronwyn cooed, and Enoch scowled.

"Shut up."

"Wait, something's happening." Jacob squinted. Horace seemed to have at last finished explaining everything to Penelope, who was glaring at him furiously. She yelled something at him then ran into the building.

"Oh dear…" Bronwyn said worriedly.

"Shit." Jacob muttered

Horace walked back to them, shaking a little. He looked tearful, but he gave them a dry smile.

"Well that was a mistake…"

"What did she say to you?" Millard asked.

Horace sighed.

"She just called me a swine and stormed off." He said miserably. "She didn't take hearing about you very well either." He said to Enoch.

"Oh I'm so sorry Horace." Bronwyn said, pulling him into a hug. "That's just dreadful that you lost a friend because of us, we never meant for it to be like this… I hate to think you were too afraid to tell us how you felt."

"Yeah, we're really sorry man." Jacob said guiltily, "We should have listened to what you wanted instead of jumping to conclusions."

But Horace just shook his head, sighing.

"This is my own fault for not coming clean to her sooner." He said bitterly. "And besides, I'm sure it would have happened eventually when she found out about Enoch and I… maybe it's better I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not."

"That's the spirit." Bronwyn reassured him, though she still looked guilty.

But as they headed back to Jacob's house, the others doing their best to cheer him up, Horace couldn't quite get rid of the miserable feeling eating away at him

…

Horace spent most of the rest of the day moping miserably around the house, while Enoch set up a mini operating theatre on the kitchen bench top, conducting a few morbid dissections on his homunculi. Horace was halfway up the stairs, having just resigned himself to spending the afternoon alone in his room, when there was a hesitant knock at the back screen door. Horace glanced at Enoch who shrugged, looking just as confused as he did- all their friends we back from their shifts already.

"Er, hello?" Horace said, opening the door.

To his surprise, he was greeted by a breathless Penelope.

"Horace! I'm so sorry if this is an intrusion, but Jacob Portman told me last week that this was where you were staying… he said that I could visit whenever I liked, so long as I didn't stay long enough to start ageing forward." She looked a little sheepish. "Of course, that was before all of… well, _this_…" She gestured between the two of them, "but I hoped the offer might still stand. I need to talk to you. Could I come in?"

Horace's brain took a moment to comprehend what she was saying, then he nodded numbly.

"Of course." He said, holding the door open for her.

Enoch looked up as she walked in, and he nearly dropped the heart he was holding.

"What's _she_ doing here?" He said, outraged.

"Don't be rude." Horace scolded, turning to Penelope hopefully. "You wanted to talk to me?"

He was hoping for a Hugh-style reconciliation, but he tried not to be too optimistic.

"Yes." Penelope clasped her hands together and pursed her lips. Now that she had the chance to speak, she didn't seem to know exactly what to say. "I just… today in the Acre… it felt wrong to end the conversation like that." She explained. "You probably didn't even know what to make of it."

"You mean you calling me a swine?" Horace mumbled. "Well, I did have some idea…" He admitted guiltily. "And you were well within your rights to react like that. I said it earlier but I'll say it again- I am so, so terribly sorry for what I put you through. You've been such a good friend to me and I would never purposely hurt you. I was trying to break it off without breaking your heart and I just made it worse, and I just feel awful, I'm so sorry. I don't blame you for being upset, I deserve everything you said to me."

Penelope took a deep breath like she was trying to calm herself. She thought about it for a moment.

"I suppose when I yelled at you it was because I was just so angry and hurt." She began slowly. "I still am. I'm angry that you lied to me. I'm angry that you humiliated me. But more so, I'm _hurt_ because you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth about who you loved from the beginning." She shook her head in disbelief. "Do you really think so little of me? Do you really think that after all these months we've been friends I would suddenly cut you from my life over something so trivial? I mean _really_ Horace. I know I can be snobbish at times, but I pride myself to say that I am rarely unaccepting."

Horace was staring at her, mute with shock. Penelope's eyes welled with tears and she quickly wiped her eyes.

"I love you Horace," She said quietly, "It's true. But I respect who you are and who you want to be with. Even if it's _him_." She shot a disdainful look at Enoch, who innocently scratched the corner of his eye with his middle finger.

Horace shook his head, lost for words.

"Penelope, I-"

"It's okay." She reassured him before he could apologise again. "It's okay."

"Thank you." Horace said quietly, and Penelope smiled.

"Friends?" She asked.

"Friends." Horace nodded gratefully.

…

That evening as the peculiars all sat around the dinner table, chatting happily and eating the roast chicken Emma had hand cooked (it was a bit charred), Horace couldn't help but smile. Now with all of his friends accepting he and Enoch, Horace felt like a weight had been lifted, and- despite claiming that he didn't care what Hugh or Penelope thought- Enoch looked happier too. He was joking with Hugh, who seemed to have at last been fully forgiven by Enoch and the others, and had returned to his normal, merry self. Emma too was being more than friendly now that Horace had made peace with Penelope, and Claire and Olive had stopped spontaneously crying about harbouring "criminals" in the house.

In fact, this level of acceptance was far beyond what Horace could ever have hoped for, and it made him love his friends all the more. But despite all this, one small worry was still gnawing at his stomach. And her name was Miss Peregrine.

As the Bird settled into the living room after dinner to read her book, Enoch and Horace made eye contact across the dining room and seemed to come to a unanimous, silent decision.

Enoch met Horace just outside the living room door.

"Are you nervous?" Horace asked him, glancing worriedly at Miss Peregrine, who sat in an armchair with her back to them.

Enoch shook his head.

"No. What do I care what some old ymbryne thinks of me?" He scoffed, but Horace could tell he was lying. He looked terrified.

Enoch jammed his hands into his pockets, glaring at the ground.

"So who's telling her?" He asked after a moment. "You or me?"

"You." Horace said resolutely. "I've done it twice already."

"Damn, I shouldn't have given you the choice." Enoch muttered. "…Okay, fine. You ready?"

Horace swallowed hard and nodded.

Miss Peregrine looked up as they walked around to face her.

"Mr O'Connor? Mr Somnusson? Is something the matter?" She asked. Horace gave Enoch a pointed look, and Enoch cleared his throat nervously.

"Uh… Miss Peregrine can we talk to you?" Enoch muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Certainly." Miss Peregrine said, closing her book and removing her reading glasses. She watched them expectantly, but Enoch seemed to have frozen up.

Horace knew exactly how he felt. However nervous he'd felt telling his friends, it was nothing compared to how he felt now, standing in front of Miss Peregrine. She was the mother figure he never had, she'd been there for him for seventy years and he'd gladly give his life for her. What she thought of him mattered above all the others' opinions. If she was angry, or disgusted- or worse, threw he and Enoch out- Horace wasn't sure if he could cope.

Thoughts of his friends' support and the fact that even the more hesitant ones had eventually come round was the only thing stopping his knees from giving out. He glanced at Enoch, who looked very pale.

"We- um- wanted to tell you that, uh… _dammit_ this is hard-" Enoch muttered.

"Mr O'Connor, _please_ refrain from using profanities." Miss Peregrine said disapprovingly, and Enoch was so nervous that even that tiny bit of reproval made him visibly flinch.

"S-sorry miss, it's just, um…" Enoch's hands were shaking so badly he had to shove them into his pockets. Horace had never seen him so terrified. He was clearly fighting to keep a brave face on, but he had a flighty look in his eyes like he might try to run. Horace wondered if he'd be able to stop Enoch if he did.

Probably not, since Horace's whole body had decided to freeze up.

Miss Peregrine was looking more concerned by the second. She clearly thought something horrible had happened, because she was on her feet immediately.

"Mr Somnusson, Mr O'Connor, tell me what has happened at once. I promise however bad you think it is, I won't be angry."

Enoch was staring at his feet, panicking.

"You do it." He muttered frantically to Horace, but Horace shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Mr O'Connor?" Miss Peregrine frowned, and Enoch cursed under his breath, looking up to meet her eyes.

"Nothing's happened Miss- it isn't anything like that. It's just-"

He suddenly reached out and grabbed Horace's hand desperately.

"It's just… me and Horace are- um- we're…" He cursed again, shaking. "I mean… I mean-"

Miss Peregrine was looking between the two of them, a little confused. Then suddenly a flicker of understanding came across her face and her worry lines disappeared. She held up a hand to stop him, which was just as well, because Horace wasn't sure Enoch had been breathing.

"It's alright Mr O'Connor. I understand."

Enoch shook his head.

"No you don't get it, Horace and- and me, we're-"

"Mr O'Connor." Miss Peregrine assured him gently, "I understand what you are trying to say."

Enoch stared at her. Horace did too, scanning her face. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she did.

"Oh." Enoch said quietly.

But now the real fear kicked in, as the two of them watched her in terrified silence, waiting for her reaction. Enoch's face had lost all colour and he was shaking badly. Horace was still frozen with nerves, unable to move.

Then Miss Peregrine's eyes crinkled at the corners and she smiled at them.

"I'm incredibly happy for the two of you." She said. "I love you both unconditionally, I hope you know that."

Horace suddenly remembered how to breathe. He felt his racing heart finally begin to slow. Beside him, Enoch had his head in his hands, looking like he might collapse from relief.

Horace's face cracked into a grateful smile and Miss Peregrine opened her arms to them, Horace's eyes welling with tears as the Bird's withered arms pulled them both into a hug.

_Don't cry. _He told himself._ Do not cry. Do not-_

Then he heard Enoch sniffling beside him and realised he'd broken down. He was sobbing as the Bird patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Now now, why the waterworks?" She joked, smiling. "I'm not that scary am I?"

Enoch laughed through his tears.

He'd barely had a chance to wipe his eyes when there was a commotion outside the doorway.

"Ow- Hugh you're crushing me!"

"Stay out of sight Olive!"

"Shhh, they'll hear you!"

Miss Peregrine pursed her lips, releasing Enoch and Horace from the hug but keeping an arm around both their shoulders.

"Would one of you like to explain why you are all eavesdropping on a private conversation?" She called to the doorway with a raised eyebrow. There was a sudden hush, then Bronwyn, her face a mess of ugly tears, stepped into view.

"I'm sorry headmistress, we just wanted to be there in case something went wrong. But then-"

Her eyes filled with fresh tears when she saw Enoch and Horace and she wailed, rushing towards them. "Oh you two are just so sweet!"

There was nowhere to run. Enoch and Horace were crushed into yet another hug, and Miss Peregrine, since she was between them, was as well.

"Miss Bruntley-!" Miss Peregrine scolded as the air was squeezed out of her, but then Olive bounded over to the group, Claire not far behind, and they hugged them too. Miss Peregrine looked up to see the rest of the peculiars standing in the doorway with hopeful expressions. After a moment's hesitation, she sighed. "Oh alright."

The others streamed in and joined in the group hug, and Horace couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Enoch was grumbling about personal space and people breaking his ribs, but as they all finally broke apart and Horace managed to get his breath back, he met Enoch's eyes and found that he was smiling too.

**And it's done! I hope you enjoyed it and didnt mind having to read for a million years.**

**Feel free to review and tell me what you think, or if you have any requests for future chapters.**

**I've had a couple of requests to write angst, so I'll do that for the next chapter. Do you guys want Horace-centred angst or Enoch-centred angst? Or both? Idk let me know :)**


	7. Waves and Memories

**I'm alive! I know, it's a miracle after that million-year wait. ****I've just finished my mid-year exams and I finally have two weeks of holidays to write! (Plus study, ew). So hopefully I can get some more chapters done.**

**I asked you guys which character's angst you wanted, and I got quite a few for both, so this chapter will be Enoch angst and the next one will be Horace angst.**

**Also, to answer a question- yes these oneshots are related to last Enorace fic. :)**

**Anyway, this took forever and... I kind of hate it? Oh well haha, I hope you guys like it anyway. :)**

_Chapter 7: Waves and Memories_

_Synopsis: Every year on the same day, Enoch hides away and tries to cope with his past. Horace has other ideas._

_Set: Post-Abe, Pre-Jacob, in Miss Peregrine's loop_

_Genre/s: Angst_

**TW: Some mentions of traumatic past experiences and blood. **

* * *

Enoch walked as fast as he could out of the loop, trying to keep his face expressionless and his tears from spilling over. Once he emerged into the sunny grasses outside the village however, he felt his strength crumble and he broke into a run, chest heaving and tears streaming down his face.

He didn't even know where he was running to- shoving past gasping women with baskets under their arms and trampling over the net of a very angry fisherman- until his feet hit grey sand and he breathed in biting sea air. He'd reached the beach.

Enoch didn't stop running until he'd reached the very end of the curving stretch of sand. This part of the beach was far from the safety and light of the village. Huge, looming cliffs blocked out the sun and swallowed him in shadow. These weren't like the white limestone cliffs that the others swam under- these were great hulking masses of damp grey rock that seemed to have clawed their way up out of the ground. The sand here was coarse and dark, and strewn with black rocks; jagged and razor sharp.

They sliced into him as Enoch fell to his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing hard.

A gull screeched overhead, the waves pounded at the rocks closer to shore, and Enoch opened his eyes. He took a shaky breath in and sat back on his haunches for a moment, then let himself fall back to sit among the sand and rocks. He smeared away tears with bloody, sand-specked palms.

This wasn't the first time he'd run here.

This part of the beach was where he came to hide when he couldn't handle what he was feeling. When the others' constant nit-picking and watching, scornful eyes made him feel like he was underwater, and when even locking himself in the basement felt suffocating and gave him no relief.

There was nowhere to hide in that house, and today of all days he needed to hide. He tried to imagine what the others would say if they saw him like this.

Him, sitting here like some small child, with bloody palms and tears running his face, trembling in the cold all alone.

Pathetic, that's what they'd say. Pathetic and weak.

Enoch's chest tightened in shame and he tasted bile. He felt like someone was squeezing his throat shut. He tried to breathe but it was ragged and forced, and the world spun for a moment.

Enoch shut his eyes, focussing on the sounds of the crashing waves until he could finally breathe again. If he tried hard enough, he could picture the rhythm of the waves as a slowly beating heart. It helped.

He felt his own panicked heart begin to slow as he opened his eyes again, digging his fingers into the sand.

He could do this. It was just one day. Just once a year. One stupid anniversary of a stupid, unimportant thing that happened decades ago.

He could do this. These feelings weren't so bad. They got better every year. Each anniversary he shoved them deeper down until one day, he hoped, he wouldn't feel them at all.

March 28th.

Some day that date wouldn't mean anything to him, and the thought of that was all that kept him going.

Enoch wasn't sure how long he stayed there, trying to keep his shaky breathing even. He stared numbly down at the sand between his bent knees, watching a tiny crab scurrying over the uneven grains until his vision tunnelled and the world around him soaked into a faded, soundless blur.

Enoch was broken from his trance only by the ocean suddenly swelling and rushing across the sand, stopping centimetres from his feet. The crab was washed away.

Enoch looked up and saw the tide had come in and the sun was a little lower in the sky. It lit up the rolling green hills and village buildings that huddled in the distance, but it didn't reach him here. Enoch shivered in the cold.

The water swelling around him was darkened by the cliff-shadow and it collected in inky black pools among the rocks, weeping like hollowgast eyes.

The black water curled around his ankles, slimy and cold, and Enoch stumbled to his feet.

Hot tears burned his eyes as he stared at his reflection in the dark water. His reflection stared back, gaunt and terrified, with sunken, tearful eyes. Enoch cringed and looked away from himself.

He looked exactly like he had that day. He had that same haunted look in his eyes.

Enoch forced himself to take in air, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as the memories he'd been trying to shove down finally clawed their way back up.

Screams. A whirl of terrifying colour and chaos. His friends dragged out onto the grass by men with guns and blank eyes. The smirk of their leader as the bullets rang out. The eyes of a girl staring, unseeing, at Enoch as blood poured from her head. Her blood on Enoch's hands. On his clothes. In his mouth.

And he ran. Over the sharp rocks of the beach. Out of that distant loop. Out of that memory.

The memory of sobbing, of crashing through forest and out into fields. Of the stench of a hollowgast, its panting breath on his back, its tongues grabbing at his heels.

Enoch ran until he couldn't anymore. He stumbled to a halt, his face twisted with anger and terror and grief. And he felt his whole body shake as he wrenched a large black rock from the sand, crying out as he hurled it into the ocean as hard as he could. He hurled another. And another. Some skidding and shattering over the rocks, others landing in the waves and splashing up white foam. He wasn't thinking, could barely see past his tears as he threw anything he could reach, chest heaving, the same words echoing in his head in a nasty voice he realised was his own:

_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

Enoch sobbed and threw a jagged rock into the sea. His aim was off and it veered left, smashing into the sand.

Enoch heard a strangled gasp and his head darted up.

The rock had narrowly missed a very shaken Horace, who was staring at it in shock. He looked up to see Enoch standing on the rocks.

"Well that wasn't a very good throw," Horace joked, a slightly nervous smile on his face. He looked like he was desperately trying to stay positive so Enoch would too.

Enoch felt dread wash over him like ice-water. He couldn't face Horace. Not like this.

His face must have shown his terror because Horace's false smile immediately dropped, and he looked worried.

"Sweetie it's okay-" Horace started quickly, taking a step towards him, but Enoch turned and ran for the third time that day. He heard Horace calling desperately after him, his voice swallowed by the wind rushing in Enoch's ears. "Enoch! Enoch, stop! Wait-!"

Horace was trying to follow him across the rocks now, but he was struggling. Enoch slowed to a fast walk, his stomach gripped with panic, as Horace warily stumbled over the rocks a little ways behind him.

How had he found him? He wasn't supposed to be here!

"Enoch stop! Come back, you'll hurt yourself!" Horace cried fearfully.

"Stop following me!" Enoch snarled back. "Go away!"

He picked up his pace again, trying to get as far away as possible. He couldn't let Horace see him like this.

Enoch had been to this part of the beach many times before- he could easily tell which rocks were slippery and which ones were safe, and to be honest, he didn't really care whether they cut at his feet and legs or made him bleed- and yet even he was struggling now to stay on his feet as the rocks became larger and sharper.

Horace had no chance. He had no idea what he was doing, and his dress shoes were for show only and had no grip. He was slipping and stumbling with every step as he tried desperately to follow Enoch and avoid breaking his neck at the same time.

Enoch heard him gasp as he slipped and fell, grabbing onto a nearby hunk of rock to stay upright.

"Enoch! Please!" Horace wailed, clinging to the rock for dear life, looking too terrified of falling again to let go.

Enoch winced, but he stopped.

"Are you okay?" He muttered, not turning around. He didn't want Horace to see his face.

"I-I think so…" Horace rose unsteadily to his feet, brushing himself off. Then his panic seemed to catch up with him. "Are you _insane_? What were you _thinking_ running across rocks like that?"

Enoch scowled.

"Just leave me alone." He snapped.

"I'm just trying to help you!"

"Well piss off!"

"Enoch… I know what today is." Horace said quietly. Enoch, who had been about to run again, froze.

Of course he did. Everyone in the loop knew. They pretended they didn't, but they did.

Enoch didn't know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent, kicking at a loose piece of jagged rock. It slipped down into a crack and disappeared.

Enoch heard unsteady footsteps. Horace was trying to reach him across the rocks again, and Enoch felt panic claw at his throat.

"Cut it out. You're gonna break your neck." He muttered quickly.

"Why don't you come to me then?" Horace said hopefully, but Enoch scowled.

"No. Why don't you just get lost?" He spat, though it wasn't real anger- even he could hear how false it sounded. It was fear, it was shame.

Horace must have heard it too, because he stopped walking. He was silent for a moment.

Enoch refused to look at him, but even from here he could picture the look on Horace's face. It was his worried face, where his brow would crease and his eyes would trail over Enoch's, flickering with something between sympathy and quiet determination. Horace looked at him like Enoch's feelings were some kind of complicated puzzle that he was trying to figure out, one of those interlocking metal ring puzzles where if he moved the right pieces carefully enough, he'd be able to take them apart and put them back together again, whole.

It made Enoch feel uneasy. To him, his own emotions were like some kind of confusing, slushing soup, made up all kinds of feelings melted together until he couldn't tell them apart. That Horace could was both annoying and absolutely terrifying.

"The others were going to raid the village a little later." Horace began hesitantly, clearly trying to change the subject, "Would you like to come?"

"No." Enoch muttered.

"What about-"

"No." He snapped.

He heard Horace take another few shaky steps towards him over the rocks.

"Please talk to me, Enoch. I'm right here."

Enoch cringed.

"I'm fine." He said quickly.

"I assume that's why you're hiding from everyone at the farthest point of the island?" Horace countered, taking another few steps forward. Enoch took a few steps away from him. He hadn't yet turned around.

"How did you find me?" He mumbled eventually.

"Oh that was easy." Horace said, stepping forward again. "When I realised you weren't in the basement, I just went searching for the darkest, most miserable place I could find. And here you are." When Enoch didn't laugh, Horace hesitated, then said gently, "Do you come to this place often?"

"Every year." Enoch mumbled, hugging his arms to himself and hoping he sounded like he didn't care. "…I don't like the house." He explained.

He didn't want to tell Horace this, he didn't want him to know any of this.

"Well maybe you'd like it more if you could talk to the people in it? If you felt safe? Everyone cares about you, Enoch, they've all been so worried, they just want you to be okay-"

"No they don't!" Enoch snapped suddenly. "Quit lying to make me come back with you! They don't care and they never have and- and that's _fine!_ Why should they? It's not like I care about their problems either! So… so there!"

Horace had reached him now, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Enoch, that's not-"

Enoch flinched like Horace's hand had burnt him.

"Don't touch me!" He cried, whirling around.

Horace's eyes widened as he took in Enoch's panicked, tear-streaked face. Enoch's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, he felt like he was going to be sick. The image of a blank-eyed man flashed through his mind, and he felt the familiar jolt of terror, the crawling in his skin as the wight's hand grabbed him, the gun to his head. The laugh of a monster and the blood of a girl. He looked at Horace and for a moment his eyes were blank white.

"Don't- don't do that!" Enoch snapped angrily, his voice catching. "Don't just grab me like that! You can't just- I can't-"

Horace was staring at him in hurt confusion. His eyes were back to their usual blue-grey, the wight gone, and Enoch immediately felt hot shame fill his chest. He winced and turned away.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He mumbled, so quietly Horace could barely hear him. He had his back to Horace again, shaking badly.

He couldn't do this, he couldn't be seen like this. It was bad enough trying to distract himself from his feelings without having someone to judge him for them.

Horace had recovered now, and was back to trying to reassure him.

"You don't have to apologise, Enoch." He said gently. "It's okay, I understand-"

"No you don't!" He cried, turning to face Horace in panic. "You don't…"

"Well even if I don't, I'm here, Enoch. Just let me help you."

Enoch squeezed his eyes shut. He was beginning to hear screams in his head again. He tried to block them out, tried to focus on Horace talking to him.

"It's okay Enoch, you can talk to me, you can trust me-"

"Just go away." He groaned, his head in his hands.

Horace shook his head.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not letting you suffer through this alone for yet another year. Please Enoch, let's just go back to the house, you'll feel better-"

"No! I can't do this. Just leave me alone…"

The screams were getting louder now, and Enoch couldn't breathe. They drowned out everything, Horace's voice, Enoch's own thoughts. He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking, feeling like a little kid all over again. Horace was still talking, but Enoch couldn't focus on his words. His heart felt like a bullet that ricocheted in his chest. He felt dizzy, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't cope, Horace was still talking but he didn't know what he was saying, he tried to focus on the sound of the waves again but now they just blended into the sound of his panicky gasps and he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing he just wanted it to-

"Stop. Stop it! Stop!" He yelled.

Horace immediately shut his mouth, silent.

Enoch forced himself to slow his breathing, used every bit of his strength to shove the feelings down into his chest and force the screams and the memories to the back of his mind. He was still crying, still shaking, but he could breathe again. For a moment the only sound was the waves.

Horace was staring at him with tears in his eyes. He went to hug Enoch but Enoch stumbled away from him and Horace froze, pulling back. He seemed torn, unsure of himself, looking at Enoch helplessly.

"…I don't know how to help you." Horace said quietly, tears spilling.

"You can't." Enoch said. The fight had drained out of him, leaving him numb and tired.

He sat down heavily among the rocks.

"…It's fine." He mumbled. He glanced up at Horace, who was still tearful. "It's not your fault. This is just…" He sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "This is just something I have to deal with by myself."

Horace hesitantly sat next to him, looking like he was scared Enoch might try to run again.

"Look at me Enoch." Horace pleaded, but Enoch cringed and looked away. Horace took his hands, making Enoch wince, "Please look at me." He said quietly.

Enoch's eyes dragged up to meet Horace's concerned blue ones.

"I'm here. I'm right here." Horace said, "You don't have to do this by yourself. I know you think that this is a burden you have to carry alone, but that isn't true. This will only get worse the more you try to run from the people who care about you. Just talk to me. Please."

Enoch felt a wave of emotion rising up in him but he forced it back down, his face rearranging into his usual cold apathy.

"No." He heard himself snapping, yanking his hands from Horace's. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. "You wouldn't understand. Just leave me alone."

Horace looked hurt.

"You don't have to keep pushing me away." He insisted, trying to take Enoch's hands again, "Just let me help you, I promise I'll try to understand-"

Horace reached out to link his fingers with Enoch's, but Enoch felt a jolt of panic and snatched his hands away again. He was pressed as far back from Horace as possible, trying to get away.

"Would you quit touching me?" Enoch snapped, more harshly than he'd intended. Horace winced at his anger and shrank from him. They stared at each other warily, each leaning away from the other.

Enoch took a deep breath, forcing himself to move back towards Horace.

"Look, I… I know you're trying to help me, okay? And I appreciate it. But you can't just snap your fingers and this'll magically get better. That's not how it works."

"I know that, Enoch." Horace said quietly, still a little shaken. "But if I can't help you, then I can at least make sure you realise you don't have to do this alone. You don't have to hide away on some dark beach every year, or every time you're feeling like this. There are people in your life who care about you. _I_ care about you. And I hate to think that you're hurting like this with no one to talk to."

Enoch shook his head, tears blurring his vision. He stared down at the rocks.

"You wouldn't want to talk to me if you knew the truth." He mumbled.

"That isn't true." Horace insisted. He tried to take Enoch's hands once again but Enoch winced, pulling away.

"Don't-"

"I'm sorry." Horace said quickly, realising himself and folding his hands in his lap. There was silence for a moment. "Enoch, whatever the truth is, of _course_ I would still talk to you; I'm by your side no matter what." Horace said earnestly, looking him in the eyes. "Enoch, I love you-"

"Don't." Enoch flinched. "Please, just- don't. I don't deserve that."

Horace frowned, shaking his head.

"Now that _definitely_ isn't true."

There was silence again, the wind and waves the only sound. Enoch couldn't take it any more.

"It was my fault." He suddenly blurted, the guilt finally spilling out of him and making his voice catch. Horace's head darted up to look at him.

"What was?" He asked.

Enoch felt like someone had just cleaved his chest open. He tried to speak but no sound came out. He took a deep breath in and hoped his voice wasn't as shaky as it felt.

"What happened in my loop… the wights… it- it was my fault."

He tasted salt and realised he was crying. He'd never told anyone this before.

"I mean- I… I didn't mean for it to happen. It wasn't on purpose, it just-" His voice caught and he went quiet again.

Horace was staring at him. He looked like he desperately wanted to hug Enoch, but knew better than to try. Enoch was still talking, the words in his mouth feeling like broken glass.

"Everyone in that loop was killed or captured because of- of _me_. Because I was too stupid, and weak, and-" His voice was shaking badly and he had to force himself to keep going. "And I just ran. I ran away like a bloody coward. …And I survived." He shook his head. "It shouldn't have been me who made it. I should have stayed and suffered like the rest of them. I deserved that. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to live in a nice loop, with an ymbryne like Miss Peregrine, with people who care about me… and I don't deserve to be with someone like you."

Horace shook his head in disbelief.

"Enoch that's not tr-"

"Don't give me a speech. Whatever you're about to say, you're wrong, so you may as well just forget it."

Enoch wrapped his arms around himself, digging his nails into his sides.

"Sometimes… sometimes I wish I'd just let the hollows get me that day. It would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble. It would have saved me all of- of _this_." He made a gesture like digging his nails into his skull, then let his hands drop, shaking his head bitterly. "But then I think, _no_. Thats ungrateful, that's selfish, 'cause I survived and they didn't and now I'm here whinging about some stupid guilt and memories when- when I bloody _should_ feel like that! It's the least I can do after all I've done."

Horace didn't speak, and Enoch shifted uncomfortably, sighing. He let his head fall into his hands.

"Maybe I'm being stupid. I don't know. …I don't even know anymore."

Horace moved closer to him on the rocks, eyes shining with worry.

"I'm so sorry, Enoch." He said quietly. "I'm so sorry you've had to feel like that. Living with that guilt… I can't even imagine." He shook his head, then hesitated. "…Thank you for telling me."

Enoch glanced up at Horace warily. He'd never opened up to anyone like he just had to Horace. He suddenly felt naked, like there was nowhere to hide.

Horace was looking at him determinedly now.

"But I promise you, no matter what you did, no matter what happened, you do not deserve to suffer this kind of constant guilt, and you shouldn't have to soldier through it and pretend it doesn't bother you out of some kind of sense of duty or punishment for what happened. Don't do that to yourself. I never met the people in your loop, but I know if it had been me who was captured, I wouldn't begrudge you your freedom or survival, and I certainly wouldn't want you to waste your second chance at life drowning yourself in the past."

Enoch stared at the rocks again, feeling sick

"Enoch will you look at me? …Please?" Horace asked, and Enoch reluctantly glanced up to meet his eyes. "I want you to know that I don't think of you any differently now that you've told me. I still want to be around you, I still want to talk to you, and as much as you want to deny it, I still love you."

Enoch shook his head.

"You shouldn't. I'm a monster."

Horace's eyes flickered with the first real anger Enoch had seen in him all day.

"Don't you dare talk like that." He scolded. "You are _not_ a monster, you hear me? You're a human being who made a mistake. A monster wouldn't care if people got hurt, but you _care_, Enoch. The fact that you feel this guilt means you care. You're a good person, no matter what you or anyone else says. Don't you ever forget that."

Enoch didn't know how to respond. He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the words. Thankfully, Horace filled in the gap, clearly determined to get through to him.

"And don't tell me you don't deserve me. Or that you don't deserve to be in this loop. You deserve everything you have and more, Enoch. You deserve to be _happy_, for Bird's sake." His expression softened. "And I know that's hard, and that it isn't just going to happen magically because I've wished it for you strongly enough. I know. But I'm here for you. No matter how bad it gets, I refuse to let go through this alone."

Enoch couldn't speak. His voice had died along with any words he could have tried to say. The screams in his head and the ache in his chest hadn't gone away, but they seemed lessened somehow. He turned to Horace with tears streaming down his face. He wasn't entirely sure how they got there.

"…Thank you." He finally mumbled. He wanted to say more but he didn't trust himself to speak.

Horace gave him a smile like he understood

"Do you want to come back to the loop now?" He asked hopefully. "It's so cold and dark here, and the house may be crowded, but at least it's warm."

Enoch hesitated, then nodded, getting to his feet as Horace stood as well. He felt exhausted and numb, his body aching all over, but for the first time in years he felt like maybe a bit of the hurt had dissipated.

As they began the walk over the rocks and sand, heading back to the loop, Enoch found Horace's hand and linked their fingers together. Horace glanced at him and smiled, and for the first March 28th in decades, Enoch managed to smile back.

* * *

**I hope you liked it! Feel free to let me know what you thought or give suggestions for future chapters in the reviews. :)**


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